Relativity Falls: New Friends
by Sand-wolf579
Summary: Stan and Ford spend the summer at Gravity Falls with their great aunt and uncle. After two weeks there both boys find some new friends, but neither of them is very pleased with the other's friend.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I absolutely** _ **love**_ **the idea of 'relativity falls' stories, where basically the ages of the children and adults in the show are switched. I'm just kinda picky about the stories in this AU that I'll read, because I don't want them to be just rewritten versions of the show. I want to read about completely unique situations, so that's what I decided to write here. I have multiple short stories idea for this setting, and just really wanted to start with this one.**

 **So, yeah, I don't own** _ **Gravity Falls**_ **or the idea of** _ **Relativity Falls**_ **, I'm just writing my version of an already existing cool idea. So please, sit back, and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Stan stood at the shores of Lake Gravity Falls, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. The waters of the lake washed up on the shore and hit his bare feet. Back in New Jersey he never would have even thought about running around the beach without at least wearing sandals. He may not be smart like his brother, but even Stan knew that it wasn't a good idea to walk around at a place called 'Glass Shard Beach' without some sort of protection for your feet.

But the lake at Gravity Falls was a lot different than the beaches back home. Here, there were actually other people around. He could swim in the waters without worrying about all the pollution. The sands were soft and squishy instead of stabby and sharp. And, best of all, Lake Gravity Falls had the Stan O' War.

He and his brother had stumbled on the old sailboat by complete accident. Their Grauntie Mabel had just brought them to the lake for a fun day at the beach the day before, and while they were exploring with their Grunkle Dipper they had found an old cave with the boat in it. Both the cave and the ship looked like they hadn't been used in years, and both Stan and Ford immediately decided that since it looked like the ship wasn't anybody else's, they should claim it for themselves, and they had.

It definitely wasn't a seaworthy vessel, or even lakeworthy, but Stan was excited by it anyways. They had their own boat! What wasn't there to be excited about? Even Ford, who wasn't as much a fan of the ocean, or lake, or even water in general, as Stan was was excited. Nerd that he was, Ford wanted to sail to Scuttlebutt Island and look for sea monsters.

Stanley just wanted to have sailing adventures with his brother...and maybe also find buried treasure...Oh, and babes!

It wasn't like they could just sail off into the sunset right away though. The ship was barely holding itself together, and both Dipper and Mabel needed to approve of it before it even touched the water. Stan and Ford had a lot of work to do, and they were both looking forward to it.

...at least, Stan thought they were.

The twelve year old looked around the beach with a small frown. His brother was nowhere in sight. Where the heck was he? Stan knew that Ford had wanted to go to the library to get some books on how to fix a boat like this. So, that was where Ford had _gone,_ but where was he _now?_ Even a nerd like him couldn't take this long at a stupid library, could he?

Nah, actually, he probably could.

Stan sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly in disappointment. He had thought that Ford was as excited about this as he was. Obviously not, if he had let himself get distracted by some stupid book. Stan shook his head and tried to push back his disappointment. He knew that Ford hadn't forgotten about him, he had probably just found a cool book and lost track of time...yeah, that was it.

Once Stan had convinced himself that he was just worrying about nothing and Ford was just being a little bit more of a nerd than usual, he decided to get to work. Stan may not know a lot about how to fix a ship, but there were some small things that even _he_ could figure out without some dumb book telling him what to do.

Stan pulled himself onto the deck of the small ship and reached for the small tool bag that had been left there from what little work they had done the day before. Stan picked up an old hammer that was just slightly too large and heavy for him to feel comfortable holding, but he dealt with it. Hammer in hand Stan glanced around the boat to find rusted, bent, or broken nails that would have to be taken out and replaced.

Just like Dipper had shown them how to do yesterday.

It didn't take long for Stan to find some old nails. In fact, _most_ of the nails holding the Stan O'War together were rusted and warped. And, like Dipper _and_ Ford had reminded him numerous times when they had worked on the ship the day before, when in doubt, throw it out...well, maybe not throw them _out._ Stan thought that some of these nails looked pretty cool, and he was definitely thinking of keeping them a bunch of them for a collection or something.

After pulling out nails, (and the occasional board when he pulled too hard and the wood just snapped) for almost two hours Stan _finally_ started to think he was making progress at it. He had two large piles of niles, one for those he was going to toss out, and one for those he wanted to keep. Stan had to actually search to find any belt nails that were sticking out.

The twelve year old figured that what he had done would be good enough for now, because he was getting really tired of looking for nails. He didn't want to stop working on the ship, but he didn't know what else to do, and Ford _still_ hadn't come. Maybe the nerd had just spent so long at the library and checked out so many books that he had decided that it would be better to just return to the shack than go to the beach.

Stan was thinking of doing the same. It was getting really hot outside, and Stan was sure that he was badly sunburned, because he hadn't remembered to bring any sunscreen…' _or sandpaper',_ Stan thought with a wince when he felt all the splinters in his hands. It was like the boat was made of splinters and broken nails and nothing else.

Stan didn't really mind splinters all that much, he actually thought that they were kinda cool, but Ford _hated_ them. He was always super hesitant to even touch a piece of wood that even had the possibility of being splintery.

(maybe _that_ was why Ford hadn't shown up that day).

Stan made a mental list of the things that he would be bringing for tomorrow, sunscreen and sandpaper. He put the hammer back in the tool bag, as well as the nails that he wanted to keep. He shouldered the bag and jumped ungracefully off the ship, landing face first in the sand. It hurt a little bit, but he didn't cry out in pain. Stan just laughed and spit the sand out of his mouth. He quickly got to his feet and began the walk back to the shack.

It was a fairly long walk back to the shack, but Stan wasn't really all that bothered by it. It was always fun to pass by and talk to the folks in town (except for Preston Northwest and Bud Gleeful. Stan _hated_ those guys). The woods were also kinda cool to walk in. Stan always got the feeling that something was watching him in those woods, sometimes he felt in danger, sometimes he just felt like he was being observed. It was kinda freaky, but kinda cool at the same time.

The sun was really beating down on Stan as he walked. He didn't mind it all that much as he went, but the second he got back to the shack with it's air conditioning did he he realize just how hot and tired he was. Stan made a dash for the fridge to grab a Pitt Cola. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Ford sitting at the table, drawing on some graph paper or something.

Stan grinned and punched his brother's arm, surprising him. "Hey, nerd, didn't see you at the lake today."

"Oh, hey, Stanley." Ford said, his voice cracking ever so slightly on that last word, which only happened when he was either upset or hiding something. "I'm _so_ sorry. I got caught up at the library and just lost track of time and…"

"Hey, calm down, Sixer." Stan laughed. "I ain't mad at you." That was probably why Ford looked nervous. He had probably been worried that Stan was going to get mad at him. Stan wouldn't get mad at his brother for something like this though. Sure, it kinda hurt that Ford had pretty much ditched him for his nerd books, but it was just a one time thing. It wasn't like this was going to become a regular thing...right?

"So, uh, you got a lot of books." Stan commented, because the table was absolutely full of them. With all the paper and books that Ford had in front of him Stan would think that he was working on his summer homework if it weren't for the fact that he _knew_ that he had finished it the first week of summer. "Anything good about boats?"

A light blush came to Ford's cheeks. "Well, no." Ford looked at the table. "I kinda...forgot them."

"Forgot them?" Stan was just confused by that. How could somebody forget to bring back the books they had gone to the library for in the first place.

"It's okay though." Ford said quickly. "I'll go back to the library tomorrow and get them." Ford sounded really excited to be returning to the library. Stan figured that there must be some pretty good nerd books there.

"Yeah, okay." Stan shrugged and went to the fridge to get a soda. He didn't think much else of the whole thing, because he didn't think there was anything else to it. So what if Ford had gotten caught up doing his own thing? Tomorrow things would be back to normal. Ford would get the boat books and they would work on the Stan O' War together, just like they were supposed to.

* * *

The next morning Ford waited anxiously around the shack until it was late enough for the library to be open. He carefully crammed the graph papers he had so carefully been working on the day before in his bag, along with a couple of thirty eight sided dice. He said a quick farewell to his great aunt and uncle, and he was off towards the town.

Stan had left about an hour before to go to the lake. Ford had assured him before he left that he would join him in a bit. Stan didn't look like he had quite believed him, and Ford didn't blame him after what had happened yesterday. Ford really hadn't meant to just ditch Stan like that, he had just gotten caught up with other things. Today though Ford swore it would be different. He would just stay at the library for an hour or two, and then he would join his brother.

And this time Ford would remember to get those boat books.

The first thing Ford did when he got to the library was find the boat books that Stan wanted him to get. He had meant to get them yesterday, but Ford always got excited and easily distracted whenever he first entered a library that he had never been to before, no matter how big or small it was. He wanted to know where everything was, and just how much of a variety they had, so Ford explored. He completely forgot about the books for a bit, and by the time he remembered he had gotten caught up in something else.

Not this time though. No, Ford made _sure_ to get the books that he was sure they would need for the Stan O' War. There weren't all that many options, The library in Gravity Falls was a rather small one, but Ford was able to find two or three books that he was sure could be helpful in one way or another.

He was just about to go and check the books out when he heard the quiet strummings of a banjo. Ford grinned and made his way towards the sound. He would check out the books later. He weaved through bookshelves and books that were carelessly left on the floor until he got to the reading corner of the library. And there, sitting on one of the chairs and strumming a banjo was Fiddleford Mcgucket.

Ford smiled broadly and sat next to his friend. Fiddleford was a year or two older than Ford was, and they had only met the day before, but Ford already knew that he was the best (and only) friend that he had ever had that wasn't his brother.

"Stanford, I was beginning to think you weren't going to show." Fiddleford said in a slightly teasing tone. Ford laughed slightly and shoved Fiddleford a little bit, who chuckled and shoved right back.

"Come on, we both know you just got here." Ford said.

"Yeah, but I got _here,_ to the table, first." Fiddleford pointed out. He set his banjo to the side. "So, we pickin' up where we left off yesterday?"

"Absolutely." Ford placed the books he had grabbed on the floor and dumped the contents of his bag on the table. He saw Fiddleford pick up one of his thirty eight sided die. "So, where we left off yesterday…" And just like that the boys found themselves drawn into the world of Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons.

It was Ford's favorite game in the world, but he didn't get to play it very often. It wasn't the kind of game that one could play by himself, but the only person that Ford felt comfortable enough around to play this game with at home was Stan, and his brother _hated_ this game. Or, more accurately, he whined very passionately about the game simply because he didn't fully understand it.

Ford's love for the game had caused him to become interested in a rare guidebook that he had found at the library yesterday. Ford had been amazed to find it, and he had immediately started reading it. Fiddleford, who had been at the library looking for inspiration for his latest 'doohickey' (robot), had seen what Ford was reading and had struck up a conversation about the game that they both enjoyed. One thing led to another and soon the two of them had started playing the game with the library's copy.

It was only supposed to be a short game, but it lasted for quite a while, and they didn't even finish it. After a few hours Fiddleford said that he needed to get home for dinner and they agreed to continue their game the next day.

It had been so long since Ford had had somebody around that he could _actually_ play Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons with. He was glad for the playing partner, but Ford had forgotten that the game really wasn't one that could be played in a short period of time. Most games were hours long, usually throughout multiple days and playing sessions. Basically, it wasn't a game that one should play if they have already made plans for the day, and Ford had.

He convinced himself that it wasn't that big of a deal. He and Stan could work on the Stan O' War any time this summer. And surely Stan would understand that Ford just wanted to spend some time with his new friend. Stan would forgive him for ditching him...right?

Honestly, Ford wasn't so sure, but he _really_ didn't want to leave the game. All he needed was an hour or two of Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons and he would join Stan at their boat. He would make it up to his brother later, but right then Ford just wanted some _him_ time.

Unfortunately, something else that Ford forgot about his favorite game was that it was _really_ addictive. A couple of hours of gameplay felt like they took just five minutes. So his plan to spend just a few hours with Fiddleford at the library didn't go so well. One minute it was half past nine in the morning and they were setting up the game. The next, when Ford just happened to glance at the clock, it was almost three in the afternoon. They had been there for almost six hours.

"Aw man." Ford frowned in disappointment, both because he knew that he would have to stop his game for now, and because he had gone and let himself get carried away when he had promised himself that he wouldn't let Stan down again. "I gotta go home."

Fiddleford looked up at the clock and his eyes widened. "Sweet sarsaparilla, is it really that late?" Fiddleford seemed about as alarmed as Ford was about the time. "I should get goin' too. Same time tomorrow?"

"Uh…" Ford thought carefully as he put his things back in his bag. He didn't want to leave Stan hanging again, but the game was just getting intense. They were just about to enter Probabilitor's castle. "Yeah, sounds good." Ford figured he could come by the library, play for _just_ an hour, he would even set an alarm and everything, before helping Stan out at the lake.

Everything would be fine. Everybody would be happy.

Ford slung his bag over his shoulders and hurried off. He ran down the streets of Gravity Falls, right towards the lake. The summer sun was beating down on him, and Ford already felt sweltering hot. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to see Stan still waiting for him at the Stan O' War, or for his brother to have gone home before something happened to him from spending too much time in the hot sun.

Ford arrived at the beach and immediately went to the Stan O' War. He felt his heart sink when he saw that there was nothing aboard the ship except a few cans of Pit Cola, some used up sandpaper and some rusty old nails. Stan had already started working on the ship, and he had already left for the day.

Ford had missed him.

The boy sighed and slowly started walking home. Stan was probably so upset and angry. Ford expected to be punched in the face when he got home, or given the silent treatment. And he knew that he would completely deserve it. The worst part was, Ford wasn't completely sorry for what he had done. He hadn't _meant_ to ditch Stan, he had just wanted to do something that he wanted to do with somebody who was willing to be around him, even without familial obligations.

Maybe Stan would understand more if he would just find a friend in Gravity Falls for himself.

They had been staying in the small town in Oregon with their great aunt and uncle for nearly two weeks, and until yesterday neither of the boys had even attempted to make any friends. Both of them were so used to being social outcasts that they didn't know the first thing about being around other kids their age in a friendly kind of way.

The closest things Stan had to making friends in this town were his rivalries with Preston Northwest and Bud Gleeful, and Ford really doubted those counted as friendships.

Ford thought about things as he walked home. He knew why _he_ had a hard time making friends, but why would Stan? Nobody around here knew or cared that he wasn't as smart as Ford was. Nobody in town seemed to hate Ford for his freakish hands (yet), so Stan wasn't hated by association. He had an outgoing personality, and he was fun to be around, even if he could get a little too rough and intense sometimes.

Just why hadn't Stan made any friends?

Ford considered this question during the entire walk home. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't even notice that he had arrived at the shack and walked through the front door. It was only when he heard his brother talking to him did Ford realize that he was home.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up." Stan said, but he didn't sound angry, more like he was just teasing. Ford gulped. This had been the reaction that he had been most afraid of. When Stan got _really_ upset or angry he had the horrible habit of just waving things off and pretending that he was perfectly fine when that couldn't be further from the truth.

Ford hated it when Stan did this, because it made it much easier to just pretend that he wasn't aware that something was wrong. Stan wouldn't say anything. Ford wouldn't do anything. Both of them would just let their emotions fester until one of them (usually Stan) exploded.

"Sorry, I got caught up." Ford wasn't really sure why he wasn't telling Stan _what_ had been holding him up. Maybe he didn't want to be teased for playing such a nerdy game. Maybe he didn't want to make Stan feel left out and jealous because he was spending time with somebody else for a change. "I saw the Stan O' War. It's already looking better."

Stan's chest puffed up with pride. "Yeah, It'll be seaworthy in no time." He boasted. Stan slumped ever so slightly and he looked sheepishly at Ford. "But, uh, I'm not really sure what to do now. Have those books got any suggestions?"

Ford froze. _The books!_ He had completely forgotten them... _again!_

Stan's face fell when he saw Ford's slightly panicked expression. "You forgot them again? Geeze, Ford, what are you doing at that library of yours?"

"Nothing." Ford said much too quickly and a little too loudly. Stan's eyes widened in shock, and quickly narrowed in suspicion. Ford began to sweat. "But, uh, I know exactly where they are. I'll grab your books in the morning when I-"

" _My_ books?" Stan interrupted with a frown. "You mean _our_ books, for _our_ ship. This...this is our _thing..._ Isn't it?" Stan lowered his head and looked at the ground. "I thought you wanted to do this."

"I do!" Ford assured him sincerely. "I just got distracted. I swear, it's not going to happen again. Stan didn't really look like he fully believed Ford, but he nodded his head anyways and the two of them went back to pretending that nothing was wrong.

* * *

Stan hated irony, and he wanted to kill it with fire.

The next day wasn't as sunny as it had been before. The sky was overcast with clouds. It didn't really _look_ like it was going to rain though, so Stan and Ford still made plans to work on the Stan O' War together. Ford had left pretty early to go to the library to get their books and do his nerd thing, but he swore that he would meet Stan at Lake Gravity Falls in an hour. He even showed Stan that he was setting an alarm on his watch and everything.

Stan was actually smiling when he watched his brother leave. Ford wasn't just abandoning him today. They were going to meet up at their ship and things would go back to normal. Everything was fine.

Stan hung around the shack for a bit, grabbing any odd or end that he could find that could potentially be useful for the work he and his brother were going to do on the ship. Stan grinned to himself. He was so excited to _finally_ be able to work on the Stan O' War with Ford. The past two days had been okay, and it wasn't that Stan hadn't enjoyed working on the ship, but he knew that it would be a million times better with Ford there too. It was going to be so cool.

Stan was soon ready to head back to the lake, but just as he was about to walk out the front door he was pulled back.

"Now hang on, little man." Stan's Grauntie Mabel said. "There's a storm coming. You can't go to the lake in this weather."

Stan looked out the window and whined. It really _was_ starting to rain. "I won't be there for very long." He tried to say.

"Nope, you're not going." Mabel pulled Stan inside and closed the door.

"But me and Ford were going to work on the Stan O' War." Stan pleaded. He knew that his grauntie was perfectly aware of how Stan felt about Ford ditching him. She had to understand how important working on the boat with Ford was to Stan.

Mabel's expression was kind and sympathetic, it always was. "I'm sure we can find something here for you to do for you boat."

Stan scowled and crossed his arms. "Like what?" He didn't think that there was any work they could do on a boat without actually being _at_ the boat.

Mabel grinned. "Well, a sailboat needs a sail, doesn't it?"

"Uh…" Stan thought on that for a second. He realized that the old woman had a point. They _would_ need a sail, and Mabel, who was a master of fabrics and crafts, was just the person to help him do this. Besides, Ford was a smart guy. He would probably see that it was raining outside and figure out that Stan wasn't at the lake. Once his hour at the library was up Ford would come back to the shack and they would do stuff there, simple as that.

"Yeah, okay." Stan agreed. He took his gruantie's hand and let her pull him into the tv room. Stan pushed aside the furniture while Mabel went looking for some fabric that they could work with. The two of them spent the next two hours working on a sail for the Stan O' War. It was pretty fun, and Stan always enjoyed spending time with his grauntie like this, but he wasn't completely happy because with every glance at the clock Stan was just reminded that Ford wasn't there, and by that time he should have been.

Eventually Stan spent so much time looking up at the clock and scowling that he wasn't getting any work done. It was at this point that Mabel decided that it would be for the best that they take a break for the moment. She went to go work on some stuff on 'her' half of the shack (the tourist trap had two parts, an interactive art museum, and the 'mystery shack', which held magical artifacts and evidence of monsters in the forest. Two guesses on who was in charge of what part of the shack).

Stan curled up on the chair in the television room and just watched the clock. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He couldn't go out into the rain, because Stan _always_ got sick after being out in a storm, and being sick during summer was the worst. He had already explored every inch of the shack, and even if he hadn't playing explorers wasn't any fun by yourself. He would need somebody to play with him.

He would need Ford...and Ford wasn't around.

Stan sighed and curled his legs up to his chest. What the heck was so important that Ford was always running off to the dumb library? Sure, maybe he was just excited about finding something to do in this small town, Stan knew that _he_ would be pretty excited to find _anything_ to do, but that was what the Stan O' War was for. They were supposed to be finding something to do _together._

Maybe Stan just cared more about the 'together' part than Ford did. Neither of them really had many (any) friends back at home, but Stan thought that he was the only one bothered by it. Ford got upset that the other kids teased him, but he seemed to be perfectly fine with them not including him in their games and stuff.

 _Stan_ was the one who wanted to have friends, he just didn't know how to make any, and whenever he tried it just ended up blowing up in his face. The only friend Stan had was Ford, and they stuck together like glue. Or, at least, they _would_ if Ford would quit running off on him.

Sometimes Stan wondered if Ford really wanted to be around him at all, or if he was just indulging Stanley. He really didn't know what to think.

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut told Stan that Ford had finally come home. He was so tired of Ford not being around that Stan didn't even bother to hide his irritation. The first thing Ford saw when he walked past the tv room was Stan glaring at him. Ford stopped and sighed.

"Where were you?" Stan asked. He winced slightly when he realized just how much he sounded like their father. "You said you would come back after an hour."

"I...Stan, it was raining." Ford said, as if that was a viable excuse. "I knew you wouldn't be at the lake, so I just decided to stay at the library for a little longer." Ford said this like it should make Stan feel better. Like he would actually be okay with this explanation.

He wasn't.

"So why didn't you come back _here_?" Stan asked. "You know better than I do that there's lot's of stuff we can do for the ship at the shack."

"Well, yes…" Ford admitted with a slight blush. "I just didn't know that that was the plan. If you wanted me to come back earlier, you should have said something."

Stan felt his own cheeks turn red from anger. He clenched his fists. Was Ford seriously saying that this was _Stan's_ fault? Typical. "I didn't think I would have to." Stan defended himself. " _You're_ the smart one. I thought you would have been able to figure it out for yourself."

Ford sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Ford placed his bag on the ground and started searching through it. After a moment he brought out some books, the ones he was supposed to bring back in the first place. Ford opened one of the books and turned it towards Stan, who didn't move from his seat. "We can still do this though. We can-"

"Forget it." Stan growled as he got to his feet. He pushed his way past Stan and went upstairs. "I'm going to bed."

"What? It's the middle of the afternoon." Ford pointed out.

"I don't care." Stan continued his way up.

"S-Stanley?" Ford's voice was quiet and he sounded worried. Stan was tempted to turn around and immediately forgive his brother, but he didn't. These past three days had made it clear that Ford put whatever he was doing at the library ahead of Stan. He probably only hung out with Stan at all when there was nothing better for him to do, and Stan was _not_ willing to let himself be Ford's clock on the wall.

Stan went up to the attic and curled up on his bed. He listened carefully, but he didn't hear Ford come up at all. He should have expected that, what, with the way that Stan was just the second fiddle lying around for Ford to play, or however that saying went. The point was, Ford thought that there were better things out there that deserved his time and attention more than Stan did.

Part of Stan had always known this, but it still hurt.

* * *

Ford really didn't know what he was going to do with Stan. It had been really alarming for Ford when Stan had gone up the the attic in the middle of the afternoon and refused to come out. Ford hated that Stanley was apparently so upset/mad at him that he would rather mope around by himself than have a late start on the ship together.

Things weren't much better the next day. Stan had barricaded the door up in the attic and Ford was forced to sleep downstairs on the chair. It wasn't the most comfortable experience, and Ford woke up tired and sore. His discomfort caused Ford to be very irritated with Stanley, who was just overreacting and making a big deal out of nothing.

Ford was absolutely annoyed with Stan, but that didn't stop him from being concerned when he saw that Stan wasn't awake yet. Stan was usually the earliest of early risers, but he was still up in the attic, either sleeping or avoiding Ford. The worst part was that Ford still wasn't entirely sure what Stan was so upset about in the first place.

Ford hung around the shack for a bit, waiting for Stan to come downstairs, but he didn't. Even by late morning Stan _still_ hadn't come downstairs, and things were getting ridiculous. Ford didn't want to wait around all day to have a talk with his brother that neither of them really wanted to have.

Ford knew that Stan would have to come down eventually, but he really didn't want to wait around until that happened. Ford sighed and grabbed his backpack. Hanging around the shack and waiting for Stan to stop throwing a temper tantrum just left a sour taste in Ford's mouth. He just wanted to go to the library, play Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons with Fiddleford, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

He would just talk to Stan later...or, more likely, they would ignore each other until they both calmed down enough to pretend that there hadn't been a problem in the first place.

Ford made his way to the library. He felt kinda guilty about going when he knew that playing this game had something to do with why Stan was so upset with him, but it wasn't as though waiting around the shack was doing any good. And it really wasn't fair for Ford to stop doing something he enjoyed just because Stanley didn't like it.

Fiddleford was already at the library waiting for him. He was strumming his banjo, and not for the first time Ford wondered just what kind of library this was that they allowed banjo playing and games that took up a lot of space and was hours long.

"Oh, Stanford, I was starting to think you weren't going to show up." Fiddleford said. He frowned slightly when he saw Ford's serious expression. "What's wrong with you?"

Ford sighed and started unpacking the game supplies from his bag. "Stan's mad at me, and I still don't really get why."

"Stan?" Fiddleford frowned slightly in confusion. After a moment his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean your brother?" Ford had told Fiddleford a thing or two about his family.

"Yeah, Stanley." Ford sat down on the chair next to his friend. "He even started avoiding me, and I...I just don't get it."

Fiddleford frowned sympathetically. "Do you know if you did something to upset him."

Ford sighed again. He knew he had, he just didn't see how it was a big deal. "We found an old ship a few days ago and Stan was really excited to fix it up, but I haven't really been helping out as much as he wanted me to."

"Because we were playing." Fiddleford realized.

"I just completely lost track of time." Ford said. "And I know that Stan would get annoyed by that, but not _this_ much. I mean, it's just a boat, we have all summer to work on it."

Fiddleford played a few quiet notes on his banjo and thought for a moment. "...I don't think it's about the ship."

"What?" Ford frowned. "What else would it be about?"

Fiddleford played a few more notes. "Nobody likes to be ignored, Stanford."

"W-what?" Ford was actually slightly offended by that. " _Stan's_ the one who is ignoring _me."_

"Because you did it first." Fiddleford pointed out. "It sounds like Stan was excited to work on this boat with you, but you keep on putting it off to play a game."

"So what?" Ford asked. "My entire life doesn't have to revolve around Stanley, does it?"

"Of course not." Fiddleford said. "I'm just sayin' that your brother probably just wants to spend time with you."

"We _do_ spend time together." Ford said. "We're _always_ around each other."

"There's a difference between living in the same house as somebody and actually paying attention to them." Fiddleford said, and it sounded like there was a huge difference that actually meant a lot to him, and Ford didn't really understand why.

He hated not understanding things.

"I still don't get it." Ford admitted after a moment. Fiddleford sighed and shook his head.

"No, I didn't think you would." He sounded really disappointed about it too. "We don't have to talk about this now. We could just play our game."

"That would be nice." Ford said with a small smile. He could use a distraction from these stupid emotional things that he didn't understand. Ford and Fiddleford began playing their game, but it soon became clear that neither of them were truly invested in it. They were both too distracted by the things they were trying to be distracted from. It was just fortunate that the game was going very tamely at this time, because they would be completely destroyed if they had to fight a difficult boss rather than a couple of henchmen.

The two of them played the game halfheartedly for about an hour. They amused themselves with casual conversation as they played. It wasn't an epic round of adventure gaming, and not a ton of strategy was involved, but Ford still found that he was enjoying himself. He hadn't realized how nice it felt to be in good company.

Of course, because good things never seem to last, their peaceful gaming session was interrupted by a loud exclamation from a voice that Ford had never expected to hear in a library.

"What the heck?!" Ford and Fiddleford both jumped at the shout. They turned to see Stanley staring at them with wide, disbelieving eyes. His shock wore off in about two seconds and quickly turned to anger. " _This_ is what you've been ditching me for? Some stupid nerd game with some stupid nerd?"

"His name is Fiddleford, and he's _not_ stupid." Ford said defensively. "He's my best friend."

"W-what?" Stan's eyes widened with shock and hurt. "Your best friend? But...but we're-" Stan shook his head and his eyes darkened till he was glaring harshly at Ford. Stan was _really_ angry now, and Ford was even more in the dark than before.

Fiddleford seemed to be uncomfortable with the tension, and tried to take it upon himself to calm things. "Uh, hey, why don't we all just sit down and talk about this like civilized folk?" Fiddleford stood up and approached Stanley. He held a friendly hand out to the angry boy. "You want to join us, Stanley?"

Stan stared at Fiddleford for a moment. It was only then did Ford notice that Stan seemed to be shaking and was seconds away from completely losing it. Ford was about to warn Fiddleford, but he got distracted when he noticed what looked like tears in Stan's eyes. Ford was taken aback. Was his brother actually crying? Why?

Fiddleford also seemed to notice that Stan was upset. His expression became concerned and he took another step towards Ford's brother. "Stanley, are you okay?"

Stan reacted without thinking, which was normal for him. Stan gave a shout of frustration and pushed Fiddleford away from him. The older boy lost his balance and fell against the table, which knocked it over and caused their dice and graph paper to fall to the ground, ruining their game.

"What the heck? Stanley!" Ford helped Fiddleford to his feet and glared at his brother, who glared back. "Look at what you just did, you Knucklehead. You always ruin everything!"

Stan glared harshly at his twin. He quickly bent down and picked up a thirty eight sided die. Stan yelled out in anger again and threw it at the wall, _hard._ Stan then stormed off, kicking over stacks of books as he went. Ford groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Stanley was absolutely out of control, and Ford had no idea what his problem was.

"Well, you could have handled that better." Fiddleford's said, and he sounded kinda disappointed.

"Me?" Ford looked at his friend in shock. "What the heck did I do?"

"I really shouldn't have to explain it to you." FIddleford said, and he sounded completely unimpressed, like this whole thing was _Ford's_ fault. How come whenever the twins got in a fight, it was always _Ford's_ fault just because Stanley didn't know how to control his emotions?

Ford told himself that this was all Stan's fault, but that did nothing to keep him from feeling guilty anyways. He _hated_ it when Stanley got upset, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. Ford's twin seemed to get angry or upset about _everything_ these days, and it wasn't Ford's responsibility to keep Stan calm all the time.

Stan just needed to learn how to deal with things on his own... _without_ throwing people against a table.

* * *

Stan ran out of the library and into the streets. He was lucky that the roads of Gravity Falls were never very busy, because he really wasn't watching where he was going. Stan was too busy squeezing his eyes shut tight to keep himself from crying to worry about avoiding cars or anything like that.

Stupid Ford for being such a jerk. Stupid Fiddlenerd for stealing Stan's brother from him. Stupid Stan for just being so stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

Stan stopped where he was and sniffled. He was such an _idiot._ Ford was a brilliant nerd who liked nerdy things. _Of_ course he would rather spend time with other nerds who liked to play the same nerdy game as he did. _Of course_ Ford would rather be around people like him instead of people like _Stan_. It just made sense.

...So why did it hurt so much?

"Hey, watch out." A muffled voice shouted. Stan opened his eyes in alarm and looked up just in time to see a motorcycle zooming right towards him. Stan cried out in alarm and instinctively jumped to the side to avoid getting hit just as the motorcycle swerved to the other side to avoid hitting him.

Both Stan and the motorcycle rider fell harshly to the ground. In his rush to not get killed Stan had jumped away awkwardly and landed on his ankle in a weird way.

"Ow." Stan clutched at his ankle. The pain made it impossible for him to hold in the tears that had already been in his eyes. His elbow, palm, and knee were also pretty scraped up, and it seriously hurt.

"Shit." The motorcyclist pushed himself to his feet. He didn't seem as injured by the fall as Stan was. There didn't even seem to be a scratch on him, which just wasn't fair. The guy quickly made his way to Stan. "Shit, kid, you okay?" He held a hand out to help Stan to his feet, but the boy didn't take it.

Stan was just so sick and tired of being hurt all the time. He took it from his family. He took it from the jerks at school. But there was no way he was just going to roll over and take it from a completely stranger who should have been watching where he was going.

Stan got to his feet by himself and winced at the pain in his ankle. He didn't worry about the pain though. He was too busy getting ready to teach this jerk in front of him a lesson.

Nobody (or, at least no random jerks) hurt Stan Pines and got away with it.

Stan balled his hand into tight fist and punched the guy right in the chest. He would have gone for the face, except the guy was wearing a helmet (and he was too tall for Stan to even _reach_ his face).

"What the heck, man?!" Stan shouted. "You almost killed me."

The motorcyclist stared at him for a minute before he let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, sorry about that, kitten."

"W-what?" Stan was not expecting that. Was this really tough looking guy really letting a twelve year old get away with punching him. Also, what the heck had he just called him?

"Kitten." The man repeated. "You know, 'cause you're small and cute, but _definitely_ got some bite in you."

Stan's face went red. He didn't like it when Grauntie Mabel called him cute, and he liked it even less from a total stranger.

"You're not too hurt though, are you?" The man asked.

"No." Stan muttered as he rubbed at his sore elbow.

"You sure?" The man didn't look convinced. "You're kinda crying, kid."

Stan quickly wiped away the stupid tears that he had _not_ given permission to fall. "Not because of _you_ " Stan said. "My nerdy brother was just being a massive jerk."

The man nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I get that." At that moment Stan decided that he liked this stranger. Nobody else seemed to understand how hard it was to have an insensitive genius for a brother. "But you're not hurt, right?"

"Right." Stan said. The man shook his head and gave Stan a little push. It was just enough for him to try to put pressure on his hurt ankle to keep himself from falling. That small amount of pressure sent a fresh new wave of pain through his foot. Stan cried out. His leg buckled beneath him and Stan would have fallen over if the man hadn't been right there to catch him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." The man made Stan sit down on the ground and looked at his ankle. "It doesn't look too serious, but you're definitely not walking on that thing. I can give you a ride home if you want."

"I don't really want to go home right now." Stan said, thinking about how Mabel would react to see him all scraped up, and how Dipper would react to see him brought back by a man on a motorcycle. Besides, Ford might be heading back to the shack soon, and Stan _really_ didn't want to see him.

"Alright, how 'bout this." The man stood up and helped Stan to his feet. "You had lunch yet?"

"Nope." Stan said.

"Well, there's a diner not far from here. How 'bout we go get some lunch, as an apology for almost killing you earlier."

"Uh...yeah, okay." Stan agreed. "I could eat."

"Alright then." The man took off his helmet and gave it to Stanley. The man was young, probably in his early twenties. He had long blonde hair, a look that Grunkle Dipper called a mullet and claimed didn't look good on anybody, but this guy seemed to be pulling it off just fine. He had a moustache and sideburns, though Stanley was having a hard time telling where the sideburns ended and the moustache started.

The man wore a bandana on his head, which, combined with his hair, his leather jacket, and the fact that he rode a motorcycle, made it clear that he was definitely a biker. The man walked back over to his bike and straightened it up. He brought it over towards Stan and got on it.

"What's your name anyways, kid?" The man asked as he gestured to the spot right behind him. Stan didn't hesitate before climbing on the bike.

"Stanley Pines." The boy said.

"Jimmy Snakes." The man introduced himself. He started his bike. "Now, let's see if they got anything edible out here in the middle of nowhere." Jimmy revved his bike and Stanley instinctively tightened his grip on the man. Jimmy looked back at Stan and smirked at him. "You ever been on a bike before, kid?" Stan timidly shook his head. "Well, you're in for a treat. Hold on tight and get ready for the ride of your life."

Jimmy started off and it was indeed the ride of Stan's life. It only took about three minutes to get to the diner, but they were the most exciting three minutes that Stan had ever had. He hadn't ever realized how cool motorcycles were. When he got older he would _definitely_ want to get one of these.

He wondered if Jimmy would show him how to ride one. Stan definitely hoped that he would. It would be awesome to learn how to ride a bike...and pretty awesome to see Jimmy more, because the guy was just cool.

Oh, Ford and Dipper were going to _freak out_ if they met him.

Now _that_ would be hilarious to see.

* * *

 **A/N: Yep, I got Jimmy in here. If you don't know who he is, he's kinda a canon non-canon character. In other words, he was** _ **supposed**_ **to be in an episode, but it got cancelled or something. I'm going to say right now that I'm probably going to be writing Jimmy differently than other people do. See, all we know about the guy was that he was Stan's old biking buddy, and he's cursed Ghost Rider style. Now, the majority of stories that I've read that have Jimmy in it have him as a bad guy, but I don't see him that way. If he really is cursed like the Ghost Rider, that doesn't make him a demon, it makes him an antihero who sold his soul to the devil. So, yeah, this Jimmy Snakes isn't a bad guy. Just thought I'd let you know so you don't go worrying that Stan is riding off with a demon who wants to eat his soul. Nope, he's just riding off with a guy who wants to eat a cheeseburger.**


	2. Chapter 2

Ford and Fiddleford didn't stay at the library for very long after Stan had left. Ford was still extremely frustrated with his brother, but a part of him did feel guilty about how upset his brother had been when he had ran off. He had been crying for goodness sakes, and Stanley was not the kind of kid that cried easily. And if Stan's tears hadn't been enough to motivate Ford to go after his brother, well, then Fiddleford's unimpressed glare would have done the trick. Ford's friend was _really_ not happy with the way the twins had handled things.

And after having a few minutes to calm down Ford also realized how childish he had been. Maybe he _had_ been a little unfair towards Stan...but that knucklehead had been the one to start it. Ford would make sure to apologize to his brother, but only if Stan apologized first.

He had to _find_ Stan first though.

There were very few places in Gravity Falls that Stan actually went to, so Ford figured that the search wouldn't be _too_ difficult. The first and most obvious place to look was at Lake Gravity Falls. Stan obviously loved the lake, and was practically obsessed with their broken down boat. If he was anywhere in town, he would be there.

"Ya know, I ain't never been to this lake before." Fiddleford said when they got to the lake, which was surprisingly empty that day. "Ain't there supposed ta be a monster 'round here?"

"That's what the rumors say." Ford said with a grin, because he was actually extremely excited by the idea. He knew that there were a lot of monsters and anomalies around Gravity Falls, and he wanted to find _all_ of them. That would have to wait until another day though, because the only thing Ford would be trying to find that day was his brother.

It looked like he would have to keep on searching though, because one quick look at the Stan O'War, which was just sitting undisturbed on the beach, showed that Stan wasn't there. He probably hadn't been there all day.

Ford groaned and started to worry even more. "He's not here."

"Do you know where else he might be?" FIddleford asked as he walked over to the boat and ran his hand along the edge of it. He brought his hand away from the Stan O'War and Ford was surprised to see that he didn't have all that many splinters. It looked like Stan had really gotten somewhere with his sanding.

"The only other place I can think of is the shack." Ford thought aloud. He felt a little silly for only being able to think of two places in all of Gravity Falls for Stan to be, but as outgoing and adventurous as Stan appeared to be, he really was more of a stay-at-home kind of guy.

"Well, I've been wanting to see this mysterious shack that you keep on talking about." Fiddleford grinned. "You don't mind me tagging along, do you?"

"No, of course not." Ford said. "Great Aunt Mabel will probably love for me to bring a friend by, so just get ready for some hugs." And by 'some' hugs, Ford actually meant 'a lot' of hugs. And they were the kind that almost crushed your ribs and suffocated you to death. Stan loved these hugs. Ford barely tolerated them because he didn't want to hurt Mabel's feelings...and because it was impossible to escape from them.

Ford just hoped that Fiddleford didn't get scared off by the threat of death by hugging.

When they arrived at the shack Mabel immediately drew Fiddleford in for a hug, just like Ford knew that she would. His great aunt almost seemed more excited about Ford having a friend than he was.

Fiddleford seemed so surprised by the embrace that at first Ford thought that he felt uncomfortable with it. Ford was about to intervene when Fiddleford relaxed and actually returned the embrace.

"Oh, I like this kid." Mabel smiled. "He gives strong hugs."

Fiddleford laughed and pulled away from the embrace. "The feeling's mutual, ma'am." He said. Fiddleford looked around the home, taking in every little detail. Ford didn't know what the big deal was. The home part of the shack was just like any other cosy home that people lived in. Surely Fiddleford couldn't be all that fascinated by just a regular old home, could he.

"So, uh, is Stan around?" Ford dragged his eyes away from his friend to face his great aunt. Mabel's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion and slight worry.

"No." She said. "He left a while ago. Said he was looking for you."

"Yeah, well, he found me." Ford muttered bitterly.

Mabel frowned slightly. "Is something going on with you two? Do we need to do an intervention again?"

"What? No!" Ford insisted quickly. His great aunt's idea of an 'intervention' was locking Stan and Ford in the closet and not letting them out until they had hugged and made up.

"Well then, what's with the grumpy face?" Mabel asked.

Ford shrugged and fiddled with his hands behind his back. It was a habit that he had picked up when he got nervous. "Stan saw me and Fiddleford playing Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons together, and he just got upset and ran off."

"So, you finally found someone to play that nerd game with you?" Mabel teased, which made Ford frown. He hated it when his great aunt and brother made fun of him for his interests. Of course, Fiddleford's snickers did nothing to make Ford feel any better about it.

"It's not a nerd game." Ford said as his cheeks went red with embarrassment. "...But, yeah, I did."

"Well, good for you." Mabel said, and she actually looked sincerely happy for him, which Ford didn't fully understand. Why would she make fun of his game and then feel happy that he had somebody to play it with? "But what does that have to do with your brother?"

Ford groaned. "Nothing."

"Which is precisely the problem." Fiddleford cut in. "I think Stan's just jealous."

"Jealous of _what?!"_ Ford asked loudly, because he really didn't get it.

A loud explosion from the other side of the house interrupted them before Ford could talk his frustration with Stan out on Fiddleford anymore. Fiddleford seemed surprisingly unfazed by the sound, which Ford supposed was because he was used to his own explosions. Ford just felt excited, because he knew what it meant when sounds like that happened.

Mabel sighed in annoyance. "Ford, will you go make sure that Dipper hasn't blown himself up... _again_."

"Alright." Ford agreed eagerly. He gestured for Fiddleford to follow him. The two boys went through the house until they got to the area that Dipper had set up as the Mystery Shack. There weren't any tourists around, which was unusual, but not unheard of. Even though summer was their busiest season, Dipper and Mabel just sometimes lacked the motivation to run their individual attractions, so they just closed it for the day. It wasn't as though there was anybody else around to do the work for them. There were no other employees. The shack was entirely run by Dipper and Mabel, with just a little bit of help from Stan and Ford.

Stan usually 'helped' with their great aunt's art museum. He was much less likely to get into trouble for breaking something there, because as Mabel saw it, broken art was just reimagined art. Ford normally prefered helping out his great uncle. And, unlike Stan, who never actually did anything to help in either attraction, Ford had become quite vital to his great uncle's work.

It felt really good to feel needed.

"Great Uncle Dipper, your sister says she doesn't want you blowing yourself up anymore." Ford announced as he entered into the dark room that was both Dipper's study and his attraction. He also had a lab in the basement, which was where he kept the more dangerous things that most people (especially Mabel and Stan) were forbidden from even looking at.

(Ford was allowed in the downstairs lab though. Not that he had told Stan, because he knew his brother would either tease him till the end of time, or get ridiculously jealous...or both.)

"I didn't blow myself up." Dipper said with a defensive frown, which basically translated to 'okay, maybe I blew myself up a _little_ , but she doesn't have to know that.' "The greek fire just escaped...again." He said this as though the magical fire that never burned out was sentient. It wasn't though. It just always shattered the glass jars that it was kept in. "Don't worry though, I've got it contained...for now."

Dipper's idea of 'containing' the magical fire was by trapping it under the large, clear popcorn bowl that his sister had left in the room the day before. It was a temporary fix, but at least it kept the fire from engulfing the entire planet.

Fiddleford leaned down to get a closer look at the fire. "Is that really greek fire?" He asked.

"Yep." Dipper said proudly. "It took me years to track this flame down."

"Now we're just having a hard time finding a place to put it where it _won't_ burn the shack to the ground." Ford said. "I've been juggling a few ideas, but nothing's worked."

Fiddleford put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "...would ya mind if _I_ take a shot at it."

"Hey, be my guest...uh-" Dipper trailed off when he realized that he didn't actually know who he was talking to.

"Fiddleford McGucket." Ford's new friend answered easily. He held out a hand and shook Dipper's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Pines." Dipper grinned at Fiddleford. He loved being called by his title. "Now, I don't believe that glass if the best way to hold the fire."

"I know." Dipper said with a frustrated frown. "I have to keep the room at a lower temperature for some of these artifacts, but if the inside of the glass is too hot, and the outside is too chilled…"

"The contrasting temperatures cause the glass to shatter." Ford finished.

"What about something like a water heater?" Fiddleford suggested. Dipper started shaking his head before he could even finish his suggestion.

"We already tried that." The older man said. "It made it difficult to see and everybody thought that it was just a regular fire and I was scamming them."

"For whatever reason, people seem to have a harder time believing in something that is real than something that is obviously fake." Ford added with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction." Fiddleford reminded the two of them. He looked around at the different artifacts in the room and eyed an old amulet that was supposed to have a curse that would cause the wearer's bones to turn to dust. "And more frightening. Aren't there more harmless things you could display?"

"Well, sure." Dipper waved the question off. "But those things aren't _nearly_ as interesting or rare as what I have."

"Keep telling yourself that, dipping dot." Mabel teased from the doorway. The three males turned towards her. None of them had even heard her coming. "If the stuff you've got is so interesting, then why does it make everybody fall asleep?"

Dipper scowled and crossed his arms at the familiar teasing. "I'm always warning people to _not_ look directly into The Eye of Hypnos. It's not _my_ fault that nobody listens to me."

"You just need to learn the way that people think." Mabel said. "If you tell someone to not do something, they're going to do it anyways. Especially if they're teenagers."

"And especially if their name is Stanley." Ford muttered under his breath to Fiddleford. "Word of advice; _never_ tell Stan to not look down if he's more than a foot off the ground."

"Anyways, unless you dorks are super busy nerding out in here, there's some lunch in the kitchen." Mabel said. "If you want something other than sandwiches, you gotta find it for yourself."

"Thanks, but we'll eat later." Ford spoke himself and Dipper. He had forgotten for a second that he had a friend over.

"Uh, is eating now an option?" Fiddleford asked as his stomach rumbled.

"Of course." Mabel shot Ford a scolding look. "Why don't you show him where to go?" And Ford had been staying there for long enough to know that Mabel's tone of voice meant 'and you had better eat something too'. He got that tone from her at least once every day, and Dipper got it even more often.

"Fine." Ford reluctantly agreed.

"Are ya sure it's alright for me to eat here?" Fiddleford asked. "I don't want ta impose."

"Trust me, you're not." Mabel said with a grin. "Any friend of Stan or Ford's is free to be here anytime they like. Anything to keep the boys from becoming old shut ins like my brother."

"Hey!" Dipper objected. Fiddleford snorted and Ford found himself chuckling too. It was much easier to laugh at friendly teasing when somebody else laughed first, but not in a cruel way. Otherwise Ford just didn't know how to tell the difference between friendly banter and actual bullying.

Ford led his friend to the kitchen, and just so he wouldn't feel his great aunt's wrath upon him later, ate one of the sandwiches that she had laid out. They weren't anything incredible, just peanut butter and jelly on slightly stale bread (they needed to go grocery shopping soon). Still, it tasted decent enough. It was a sandwich after all, and one would have to work pretty hard to screw it up.

As they ate Fiddleford asked Ford more about the Stan O'War. The two of them had been doing quite a bit of talking during their gaming sessions, but Ford hadn't actually shared much about his and his brother's project. Now that Fiddleford was directly asking, Ford found himself sharing more information about the ship than he had even realized he had considered.

Ford talked about how there were probably _many_ kinds of monsters and creatures in the lake, not just a 'sea' monster. Ford told Fiddleford about an old treasure map that their Great Uncle Dipper had found nearly a decade ago. Ford even sketched out some ideas he had for additions to the ship to make it more of a sea vessel than a lake one. After all, why _shouldn't_ they broaden their horizons beyond the isolated lake?

Ford had known before that he had been excited about the Stan O'War, but he hadn't realized just _how_ excited he actually was until he started bouncing ideas off of Fiddleford about it. Ford could get invested in any project, but he only talked for hours on end about the ones that he was _really_ passionate about. Apparently that included the Stan O'War.

Ford started to regret not joining Stan in working on the ship earlier.

As was normal when Ford started talking about something he was truly passionate about, he lost all track of time while he went on. Before he even know it Mabel was coming back into the kitchen dragging a reluctant Dipper behind her. This wouldn't normally be all that shocking if the first thing out of her mouth wasn't a question on what they should do for dinner.

"Dinner?" Ford asked. "But we just had lunch." A quick look at the clock actually showed that it was almost five in the afternoon...who knew? Apparently it _was_ almost dinner time.

"I thought we were planning on going to Greasy's Diner today." Dipper reminded his sister. Mabel rolled her eyes.

"We can't really do that when none of us know where Stan is, can we?" Mabel pointed out the obvious.

"...No, I guess not." Dipper reluctantly agreed. "So I guess we'll have to do hamburgers later?" That was basically the only reason they went to Greasy's Diner. To have cheap, greasy, and ridiculously unhealthy hamburgers.

"We can still do hamburgers." Mabel said. "We have a grill and everything." She looked excited by the idea, which worried Ford because, to his knowledge, his great aunt had never worked a grill once in her life. With their luck she would end up burning the entire town to the ground.

"Uh, Mabel, I don't think that's such a good idea." Dipper said. It was clear that he was feeling the same reservations that Ford did. "You barely know how to work the stove."

"Please," Mabel waved away their concerns. "How hard could it be?"

Apparently, much harder than it should be. Mabel struggled to get the grill working correctly at all. She couldn't seem to find the middle ground between barely a spark and an open flame. It took nearly an hour of fighting with the grill for Mabel to hand over control to Fiddleford, who actually knew how to work the darn thing.

"You're pretty good at this, kid." Dipper commented as he watched Fiddleford flip over the half a dozen hamburgers. Fiddleford shrugged.

"Ain't no big deal." The teenager said. "My family used to do barbeques all the time."

"Speaking of your family," Mabel leaned towards them with a friendly grin that always meant more. "What did you say your last name was again?"

McGucket." Fiddleford said easily.

"I didn't think there were any McGucket's living in Gravity Falls." Dipper said thoughtfully. He looked towards his sister, who would definitely know better than he would.

"There aren't." Mabel confirmed. "Are you guys visiting for the summer or something?"

"Um, kinda." Fiddleford said in a slightly uncomfortable tone. "I don't know how long I'll be here for. It might be just for the summer, it might be for the upcoming school year. And, eh, it's just me."

"You're here without your parents?" Mabel gasped. "Why?"

"And how can you not know how long you're going to be here for?" Dipper asked suspiciously. "Why are you here anyways."

"There were some, uh, problems at my old school." FIddleford rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, though there was a bit of a proud grin on his face. "My mom thought it would do me some good to get some fresh air."

"What kind of trouble?" Ford asked.

"The 'I may have blown up the school' kind." Fiddleford said. Dipper let out a low whistle.

"Well, that's not so bad." Mabel said. "Dipper used to accidentally blow up the school every other week."

"It happened _once_!" Dipper protested indignantly.

"Well, it wasn't entirely an accident." Fiddleford admitted. The three Pines just looked at him in shock.

"You did it on _purpose?_ " Ford's eyes widened. Accidentally causing destruction was one thing, but to mean to do it? Ford couldn't imagine what would lead somebody to _want_ to cause destruction. "Why would you do that?"

Fiddleford shrugged, and even Ford could tell that he was getting uncomfortable with the conversation. "Attention, I guess." From the sound of his voice, whatever attention Fiddleford had been looking for, he hadn't gotten it.

"Well, if you're not staying with your parents, who _are_ you staying with?" Mabel asked. Fiddleford opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything they heard what sounded like a vehicle approaching. They all turned to see a motorcycle quickly coming their way. "Uh, were we expecting somebody?" Mabel asked.

"I don't think so." Dipper pulled Ford and Fiddleford closer to the porch, away from where there was any danger of being ran over. They all watched as the motorcycle slowed down and stopped right up close to them. Ford didn't know the person riding the bike, but he immediately recognized the passenger.

"Stan?" Ford looked at his brother in surprise.

"Hey Ford." Stan was wearing a helmet, but Ford could tell just by the sound of his voice that he was smiling broadly. The big, tough looking guy on the bike put the kickstand out and got off. The guy then stood next to the bike with his back to Stan. Ford's twin grumbled for a moment, but he got on the guy's back anyways.

The man piggy backed Stan over to the porch and carefully set him down. Stan winced slightly at even the small pressure on his foot, and Ford knew that something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" Ford pulled Stan down so he was sitting next to him.

"I'm fine." Stan said as he took off his helmet. Ford would have been more likely to believe him if Stan's ankle didn't look so swollen. He also looked pretty bruised and scraped up. It just looked like Stan had gotten in a bad fight against the road or something.

"What happened?" Mabel quickly went to Stan and started worrying over his injuries.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm fine." Stan pushed away Mabel's fussing hands. "It barely even hurts."

"Stan's one tough kitten, that's for sure." The motorcyclist said. Stan just smirked at the nickname, which was about the last thing that Ford had expected. 'Kitten' didn't sound like a nickname that Stan would accept easily. He must've really liked the biker.

Ford didn't like him at all. He wasn't even sure why. Ford just felt a bad vibe coming off of the guy, and he really didn't like it at all.

"And who are you?" Dipper asked, and Ford could tell by the tone of his voice that he immediately disliked the motorcyclist just as much as Ford did.

"Jimmy Snakes." The guy said.

"He's the jerk who almost ran me over." Stan said almost cheerfully. None of the others were as happy with this news as Stan seemed to be.

"What?!" Dipper all but shouted.

"That only happened because you thought that the middle of the road was a good place to cry your eyes out." Jimmy said with a smirk. His tone wasn't all that mean, which didn't really match the words he was saying at all.

"What...Hey!" Stan's eyes widened and he looked at Jimmy as though he was betrayed. "You promised you wouldn't say anything."

Mabel looked from Stan to Ford, and neither boy liked that look in her eyes. "Were you really crying?" She asked Stan.

"I...No." Stan lied.

"No, you were." Jimmy said. "Unless you think your tears were because of the pain after your little fall."

Stan scowled and glared at Jimmy. The guy had painted him into a corner. Stan either had to admit that his feelings had been hurt and he had acted like an idiot (which was likely) or his foot and scrapes hurt more than he wanted to let on.

"...Fine." Stan admitted reluctantly. "Maybe it was a little bit of both."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jimmy nodded. Ford was a little impressed by the biker, because not very many people could get Stan to admit he was wrong or in any kind of pain so easily.

(Ford still didn't like him though).

His great aunt apparently had a much different opinion on the man. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"What?" Ford looked at Mabel in shock and slight concern. Why would she trust this guy when he had _said_ that he had almost ran over Stan? He could have killed him!

"Mabel, are you sure that's such a good idea?" Dipper asked in a tone that made it clear that he didn't think it was.

"Don't be ridiculous." Mabel rolled her eyes at his obvious concern. "I said before that any friend of Stan or Ford is welcome here."

"Awesome." Stan said eagerly. He looked excitedly at Jimmy. "You'll stay, right?"

"Heh, sure, Kitten." Jimmy said as he ruffled Stan's hair.

"Yes!" Stan punched the air excitedly, and then he punched Jimmy's arm, probably just for the heck of it. Ford didn't think he would ever understand what could be friendly about a punch.

Fiddleford happily went back to cooking the hamburgers before they burned. Mabel was getting overly excited that Stan and Ford wouldn't be brooding and lonely all summer. Stan seemed absolutely ecstatic that his friend could stay longer. And Jimmy just seemed pleased that he could get some free food.

Only Ford and Dipper seemed to feel uncomfortable with the whole situation.

"I don't like that guy." Ford whispered to his great uncle.

"I know what you mean." Dipper nodded. "There just seems to be something about him, but I can't put my finger on it…"

The two of them carefully watched Jimmy Snakes as he teased Fiddleford with Stan. When Ford's friend threatened to flip a hamburger right onto Stan's head (Ford was sure that his brother would just laugh it off and find it funny), Stan's new friend turned towards the two watching him. Ford shuddered at the look in the man's eyes, because he wasn't just annoyed that he was being watching, they were cold and emotionless. There was just something inhuman about those eyes.

And why was he looking at _them_ that way?

"Something's not right about that guy." Dipper said as he narrowed his eyes at the man who was now watching them as closely as they were watching him. "And I'm going to find out what."

Ford nodded, because he was on the same page as his great uncle was. The guy may _look_ human (except for those eyes), but that didn't mean that he was one. He could be some sort of demon or wizard or something who was just trying to pass for a normal human. The disguise was good, but it couldn't be perfect.

There _had_ to be something wrong with Jimmy Snakes, and Ford wasn't just going to sit by and let his brother get closer and closer to a guy who could potentially be dangerous.

Stan's new friend would slip up sometime. Ford wasn't going to stop until the truth came out.

Jimmy Snakes had better watch out, because Ford Pines was on to him.

* * *

 **A/N: And I have now figured out that for my future Relativity Falls stories I am going to try to include as little Dipper and Mabel as possible, because they're freakin' hard to write. I feel like I'm writing them too much like their twelve year old selves, and then I remember that Stan and Ford act like their teenage selves** _ **a lot**_ **in the show, because they're both ridiculously immature man children who never grew up and I love them both.**


	3. Chapter 3

As a general rule, Stan did not like people. Though it might be more accurate to say that other people generally didn't like him, and he _really_ didn't even try to get along with people who didn't even give him a chance.

It wasn't that Stan was antisocial like Ford was, because he wasn't. He actually prefered to be in a large crowd, even if he didn't like or trust anybody there, if it meant not being alone.

This was what Stan considered to be the biggest difference between him and his brother. Ford probably thought that the differences between them was that he was the smarter twin and Stan just wasn't. Ford had never actually _said_ this, but almost everybody else had, and Stan had a hard time believing that his brother was the only person who didn't seem to think this. Especially since it was basically true.

No, what Stan considered to be their biggest difference was that Ford would rather be by himself, because it was the only way he felt like he could truly be himself without being ridiculed. Stan had listened in to enough conversations to know that people ridiculed him even when he wasn't around, which was why he prefered to be in a crowd than by himself. It was a little harder for somebody to stab him in the back if he was facing everybody.

Even while he was around people though, he told himself that he couldn't care less about them. That he was just around them because he wanted to fit in for some reason. It was much easier to convince himself of this than to admit, even just to himself, that all he wanted was attention.

Nobody seemed to realize how hard it was to be Ford's twin. Stan loved his brother and thought he was amazing. The problem was that everybody else felt the same way. Ford was the genius. He was the one who was going to change the world and make history. And Stan was just...Stan.

Even the people who _didn't_ like Ford still seemed to single him out above everybody else, though for a completely different reason, and, once again, Stan became just an afterthought.

And he hated it.

He had gotten so used to it though. _So_ used to it that when he met somebody who was so cool and _only_ paid attention to him, even after he had met Ford, Stan became excited. Jimmy was awesome, and the fact that he seemed to think that Stan was cool even though there was a ten year age difference between them made him even more awesome.

Stan was just so excited that somebody _actually_ liked him that he let his excitement get the better of him, as was normal for him. He _might_ have talked a bit too much at Jimmy, and he was sure that he was probably annoying the man. But when Stan, who was just saying everything that came to his head, mentioned how he and Ford slept in the attic and how cool and old everything was up there and had asked if Jimmy wanted to see, the biker had just chuckled, ruffled his hair, and said 'sure, why not?'

Stan all but dragged Jimmy up the stairs. "This is the attic." He said proudly when they entered the room. "That's Ford's side, and this is mine." Stan pointed to their different areas. Jimmy looked from one side of the room, which had books and graphing paper everywhere, to the other, where there were a number of holes in the wall and dirty clothes on the floor.

"Yeah, no kiddin'." Jimmy laughed. "You guys spend a lot of time up here?"

"Eh, not really." Stan shrugged and went to go sit on his bed. "It's really cool, and I like how spooky the room gets when the sun is setting, but…"

Jimmy frowned slightly. "But what?" He asked.

Stan bit his lip. "Just...promise you won't laugh." Jimmy's frown grew deeper, but he nodded. Stan normally didn't trust promises, but he just really needed to tell somebody about this. "I...I keep on getting the feeling that somebody's watching me when I'm up here." It was embarrassing to admit, but it was true. Stan always got a similar feeling whenever he was in the woods around Gravity Falls, but it was always much worse in the attic. And even though Ford hasn't said anything, he knew that he was creeped out by the room too.

Jimmy's eyes scanned the room, almost like he was searching for something, though Stan had no idea what it could be. He only stopped looking around when his eyes fell onto the window and darkened. "Is there more?" Jimmy asked in a strange, cold voice. "Or is it just the weird feeling like somebody's watching you?"

Stan frowned thoughtfully and brought his legs up onto the bed so he was sitting cross legged. "Well...there are the dreams." He said slowly.

Jimmy's eyes flashed. "Dreams?"

"Yeah." Stan said with more confidence. "I've been getting really weird dreams since coming here." He didn't know whether it was because of the room, or the town, or if he just wasn't used to staying so far from home yet. "I can't ever remember what they're about when I wake up, I just always know that I _had_ a dream, and I didn't like it." Now that he was saying it out loud, Stan realized just how pathetic he was sounding. He had weird _dreams_ in this room? What the heck kind of complaint was that? It wasn't even like he had nightmares like Ford did. They were just dreams. Big deal.

As embarrassed as he was about feeling uneasy about the room, Stan was surprised to see that Jimmy actually looked concerned and somewhat angry. For a crazy moment he was worried that Jimmy was mad at _him_ for acting so pathetic. The worry faded when Stan noticed that Jimmy looked angry at the _room_...why would he be mad at the attic?

"Uh, Jimmy?" Stan said uncertainly when he saw that the man was glaring darkly at the window. His eyes were filled with fury, though there was also this weird look of determination and triumph in them. "What's up with you?"

Jimmy smirked and finally dragged his eyes away from the window. "Nothin' you have to worry about, Kitten." Jimmy said in that 'adult' tone that Stan hated so much. He despised it when people talked down to him. "But I think I've just found an idea of what I came here to look for."

Right. Jimmy had previously told Stan that he came to Gravity Falls to find...something. "That's cool." Stan grinned until Jimmy's words caught up with him. "Wait, does that mean that you'll be leaving soon?"

"Probably not." Jimmy walked over to the window a put a hand on the weird triangle design. "I've still got some stuff to do here."

"Like what?" Stan asked.

"Like find who put this window here." Jimmy frowned slightly.

"Oh, that was my Grunkle Dipper." Stan grinned. "He designed the whole shack." Jimmy's expression froze up and he looked at Stan strangely.

"Your _uncle_ did this?" Jimmy asked, and there was that anger again. Stan shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know what he had said wrong.

"Well, yeah." Stan said as he stared at his hands on his lap.

Jimmy's expression softened slightly. He stepped away from the window and crouched down next to Stan. "Sorry, Kitten, I get a little... _intense_ about this kinda thing. But I need to ask you something, and I need you to think hard about the answer, alright?" Stan grew a little nervous. He _hated_ tests. But he nodded anyways.

Jimmy pointed at the window. "Is there a symbol like _that_ anywhere else here?"

"You mean the triangle with the eye?" Stan frowned slightly. "Yeah, actually, I've seen that thing all over Gravity Falls. Ford's been trying to figure out what it means."

"Is it anywhere else in the house?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, sure." Stan shrugged. "I don't really remember where, but I _know_ that I've seen it around."

The dark, angry look returned to Jimmy's eyes. "And you say that your uncle built this place?"

"Yeah?" Stan's eyes widened in concern. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Not yet." Jimmy muttered, though Stan wasn't sure that he wasn't supposed to have heard that. He didn't say much else, and Stan was starting to feel just a little uncomfortable. So he did what he always did whenever he didn't know what he was doing. He opened his big mouth and commented on the first thing that came to his mind.

"Hey, is that a tattoo?" Stan asked, completely out of the blue. Jimmy blinked and followed Stan's gaze to his wrist where there was, indeed, a tattoo. Stan couldn't see all of it, because most of it was covered by Jimmy's jacket sleeve, but it looked kinda like fire.

"Yeah, I got a couple of those." Jimmy said as though it wasn't a big deal. He grinned and took of his jacket. "This one's probably my favorite." With the leather jacket off and Jimmy's t-shirt rolled up past his shoulders Stan was able to see the tattoo in all of its glory, and it looked really freaking awesome.

The tattoo was of a snake, but it was more than that. The snake looked like it was made of fire. And the way that the snake stopped and started a couple of times made it look like the snake was digging itself in and out of Jimmy's flesh. It looked really weird, really gross, and _really_ cool.

"Man, that's amazing." Stan looked at the snake with wide eyes. "I wish I had a tattoo."

A strange look came to Jimmy's eyes. "...You know, Kitten, I think I can do something about that for you."

"Really?" Stan's eyes widened even more. Jimmy smirked.

"Absolutely." Jimmy smirked. "It won't be a _real_ tattoo, because I don't think your family would be very happy with me if I did that, but it'll probably do."

"That would be awesome." Stan grinned excitedly. "What would it be? And where? Can I get it on my shoulder?" Stan moved his lift hand to pat his upper right hand back.

"I don't see why not." Jimmy reached into his pocket and brought out a weird looking pen. "As for what it looks like, well, I've got something in mind, but it's a little hard to explain."

"It'll look cool though, right?" Stan asked, because he didn't want to do this if Jimmy was just going to draw a prissy unicorn on his back.

"I think you'll like it." Jimmy said confidently. Stan grinned and turned around so his back was to Jimmy. He eagerly took his shirt off and a moment later Stan felt the light and slightly cold pressure of Jimmy's marker on his back. It only took a minute or two for Jimmy to draw out whatever he was doing back there.

"Alright, well, there's the symbol." Jimmy said as he put the marker down, but when Stan tried to turn around he forced him to stay put. "Hang on, Kitten, we're not done yet."

"We're not?" Stan asked. Could he not move until the ink or whatever had dried?

"Now quite." Stan felt Jimmy's hand on his back, right where he had drawn his 'tattoo'. Jimmy began muttering some mumbo jumbo under his breath, but Stan soon forgot about the intangible words when he felt the pressure on his back begin to heat up. It's wasn't by all that much at first, but gradually it began to get hotter and hotter until it almost burned. Right when Stan didn't think he could take it anymore and was about to pull away he felt the pressure cool down again as Jimmy pulled back his hand.

"Alright, that should do it." Jimmy said confidently.

"Do what?" Stan asked as he rubbed at his now sore shoulder and turned to face Jimmy. "And what the heck was that? Were you trying to give me the full experience or something?"

"Something like that." Jimmy ruffled Stan's hair, which made the kid scowl. He hated it when people treated him like a little kid, and Jimmy seemed to be doing a lot of it. If he was _anybody_ else (except Grauntie Mabel) Stan would have long since stopped tolerating it. There was only so much being treated like a dumb kid who was too stupid to understand anything that he could take.

Jimmy must have noticed Stan's foul mood, because he actually continued. "I just used an old method to make a temporary tattoo more permanent. This one should last at least until the end of summer." Stan could tell that Jimmy wasn't telling him the whole truth, but at least he was telling him _something_.

"That's cool." Feeling slightly better Stan grabbed his shirt and slipped it back on again. He would have to figure out whether or not to show Ford and Grunkle Dipper. He knew that Grauntie Mabel would probably think it was adorable (she kinda thought that everything was adorable), but Stan guessed that the other two probably wouldn't react as well. Ford thought that any form of defiling one's body was a waste of time, and Dipper would probably begin to think that Stan was entering his hooligan stage and would wind up in prison in the next ten years. He was kinda paranoid that way.

Jimmy glanced back towards the window, though Stan got the feeling it was more because the sun was really setting now than because of the weird eye symbol that he was apparently obsessed with. "It's gettin' kinda late." Jimmy said, even though they both knew that it wasn't really all that late. "I'd better get back to my motel. Before it gets dark and the _real_ weirdos of this town start walking around."

"Yeah, okay." Stan sighed with disappointment. He looked at Jimmy hopefully. "...Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Sure, Kitten." Jimmy grinned. "Whatever you want."

Ford wasn't normally the type of person who would judge somebody by first impressions alone. There had been countless times where _he_ had been the one who had been judged because of his sixth fingers. Other people's judgement had been a source of a lot of Ford's misery, and he didn't want to do the same thing to somebody else.

There were exceptions though. Great Uncle Dipper _and_ Great Aunt Mabel both said that it was completely normal to decide that you didn't like somebody after just meeting them, though Mabel did also make sure to remind Ford that impressions about a person may change. Great Uncle Dipper would just shrug and say that sometimes personalities clashed too much with each other, and there wasn't much you could do about it.

Ford didn't know how true that was, after all, sometimes people with completely opposite personalities ended up being _extremely_ close. Regardless though, Ford knew that he didn't like Stan's new friend. The truly frustrating thing though was that he couldn't come up with an actual reason why.

There was just something about Jimmy Snakes that rubbed Ford the wrong way. Maybe it was that he was Stan's first real friend and Ford was a little jealous. Maybe it was because Ford was wary about him being a stereotypical biker. Maybe it was because Jimmy had nearly killed Stan and Ford seemed to be the only one who really seemed to be bothered by it. Or maybe it was a combination of all of them or none of them.

Whatever the case was, Ford just didn't like Jimmy Snakes. He would feel guilty about judging the man if it weren't for the fact that he knew that his Great Uncle Dipper pretty much felt the same way.

"I don't trust that kid." Dipper said as he, Ford, and Fiddleford sat on the floor of the living room where they were playing Dungeons, Dungeons, & More Dungeons. Usually they were all very invested in the game, but because Jimmy was over and showing Stan how his motorcycle worked just outside, Dipper was too distracted with making sure that nothing happened to really get into the game. Ford wasn't much better off.

"Me neither." Ford admitted. "I don't know what Stan sees in that guy."

"He's a troublemaker." Dipper said, though Ford wasn't entirely sure whether he was talking about Stan or Jimmy. He seemed to think that way about both of them.

"I think it's more a matter of Jimmy feels protective of Stan, and Stan likes the attention." Fiddleford tried to contribute his two cents, but Dipper and Ford were both too far gone in their own theories to pay him any mind.

"Maybe Jimmy did something to Stan to make him want to be around him." Ford thought aloud. Maybe it was a bit of a stretch, but Ford was still having a really hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Stan actually had a friend. It wasn't that he thought that his brother was incapable of having friends, on the contrary. It was just that...Ford hadn't ever seen it happen before. "Are there spells that do that?"

Dipper hummed thoughtfully. "It's possible." He said, though he sounded unconvinced. "There seems to be something more sinister at work here. I've been around some pretty dark presences before, and Jimmy is definitely putting off a similar vibe."

"Dark presence?" Fiddleford frowned slightly. "You mean like demons or evil spirits?"

"Something like that." Dipper nodded. "Considering his name is Jimmy _Snakes_ , he may even be a naga that has taken on a human form." All three of them knew that a naga was a human snake hybrid, and didn't really seem like the nicest of creatures. Ford found himself considering the possibility as well, but Fiddleford wasn't as easily convinced.

"Hold up, a naga?" Fiddleford held out his hands. "Don't ya reckon yer jumpin' to conclusions a bit?"

"Maybe." Dipper admitted. "What we need is proof. If there's really something malicious about him I'm sure there will be at least _some_ evidence."

"Oh, you mean you haven't looked?" Fiddleford asked, and though Ford didn't consider himself an expert on the matter, he was pretty sure that he heard sarcasm in his friend's voice. Dipper didn't seemed to have caught it though, or he decided to ignore it.

"I've tried." Dipper said. "But I think Jimmy knows I'm on to him. He's always watching me, but at the same time he also keeps his distance from me. He doesn't trust me."

"Gee, I wonder why." Fiddleford muttered under his breath.

"Well, what if _I_ look for evidence?" Ford asked excitedly. "Jimmy seems to be neutral towards me."

Great Uncle Dipper looked at him thoughtfully. "...That just might work." Dipper looked at Ford seriously. "You need to be careful, though. We don't know who or _what_ Jimmy is. The last thing we want is for him to charm you the way he did your brother."

"Don't worry." Ford said confidently as he took his journal and a pen out of his pocket. "He won't." Ford got to his feet and went outside to join Stan and Jimmy, leaving their game behind him. He heard Fiddleford sigh and follow after him.

"Have either of you considered that maybe he's just a normal guy?" Fiddleford asked.

"That can't be it." Ford shrugged away the idea. "Do _you_ think that Jimmy's normal?"

"Well...no." Fiddleford's ears went slightly red with embarrassment. It seemed that Fiddleford had noticed same as Ford and Dipper had that Jimmy was not a regular guy. He kept on talking about a 'job' that he was in Gravity Falls to do, but he never revealed what it was. He was also looking for employment, implying that he didn't have any, even though he had mentioned not only a job, but a boss multiple times. Throw in the fact that Jimmy was never around during the night and always seemed to disappear into thin air and you have a completely irregular guy.

Sure, there may not necessarily be something _supernatural_ about Jimmy Snakes, but Ford thought that it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially when his twin brother was involved.

Ford frowned when he saw that Stan was sitting on Jimmy's motorcycle. It sounded like the man was teaching him how to ride it. Ford wasn't sure how safe that was, but so long as the motorcycle was off he supposed it was okay. And Stan _did_ seem really excited about just messing around with the bike.

Stan seemed to be enjoying himself, but when he saw Ford he immediately turned his focus towards him. "Hey, Ford, Fiddlenerd, come see Jimmy's bike."

"We've seen it." Ford muttered bitterly under his breath. How could they have missed it when the man had been riding it over every single day for nearly a week?

"And it's Fiddle _ford_." The young hillbilly said, though it was no use. Both he and Ford knew that Stan would probably choose to just ignore him, like he had every other time they had corrected his name.

Jimmy wasn't nearly excited as Stanley was about the two of them joining them, but he didn't seem all that disappointed either. Ford shrank away slightly when he saw Jimmy smirk teasingly at the two of them. "What are you two poindexters up to?"

Ford winced at the nickname and subconsciously slid his hands behind his back. He knew, really he did, that Jimmy probably didn't mean anything malicious with that nickname. If he did than Stan would have caught on to it and defended them...wouldn't he have? Yes, he definitely would have. Besides, Stan called Ford Poindexter all the time, in a teasing way, of course. Ford just had a difficult time identifying the subtle differences in tone between playful teasing and hurtful bullying.

"We decided to take a break from our game to come see what you two were up to out here." Fiddleford answered easily.

"Whoa, hold up." Stan frowned slightly in disappointment. "Are you telling me that I finally manage to drag you nerds away from your dumb game, and I didn't even _do_ anything?"

Ford groaned slightly under his breath. He had no idea why Stanley had apparently made it his life's mission to prevent them from completing a game of Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons. It got very annoying though, and Ford just wished that his brother would find a better hobby. One that didn't involve ruining their fun.

"I'm sure you'll get us next time, Stanley." Fiddleford said good-naturedly. Ford didn't understand how his friend could take Stan's attempts at ruining their games so well. Fiddleford almost seemed to _enjoy_ it, which didn't make any sense at all.

Stan grinned at Fiddleford's encouragement. "You bet I will." Stan hopped off of Jimmy's motorcycle, though he was much less graceful about it than he probably meant to be. Ford couldn't help but chuckle when he saw Stan stumble slightly after getting off of the bike. Stanley, to his credit, pretended not to notice. "I'm gonna go get us some Pit Colas. You guys want one?"

"Sure, Kitten." Jimmy nodded.

"I wouldn't mind one." Fiddleford said.

Stan nodded and turned expectantly to Ford, waiting for his answer. Ford wasn't entirely sure of what he should say. Like Fiddleford, he wouldn't _mind_ having a drink, but he didn't necessarily _want_ one. Pit Cola wasn't exactly his favorite soda. But Ford didn't want to stand out by being the only one without a drink either.

Stan could see that Ford felt conflicted about the simple question, so he came up with an answer himself. "If you don't want a lot we can just share mine." That way Ford wouldn't have to feel bad about not drinking all of his soda, and he wouldn't feel left out either.

"I would like that." Ford sent his brother a grateful look. Stan grinned and went inside to get the sodas, leaving Fiddleford and Ford with Jimmy.

"So...Jimmy." Ford began awkwardly as he tried to figure out exactly what he should say to find some answers. "What brought you to Gravity Falls?"

"Work." Jimmy answered. "My boss is interested in all of the weird stuff that happens in this town, and he wanted me to check things out." It certainly _sounded_ like Jimmy was telling the truth, but Ford couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

"What is your job anyways?" Ford asked as he opened his journal and clicked his pen. Jimmy gave him an odd look.

"It's complicated." He said after a pause. "You're too young to understand."

Ford clenched his first around his pen. If he was old enough to understand physics, he was old enough to understand whatever Jimmy was talking about. "Try me." Ford challenged.

"You sound just like your brother." Jimmy chuckled. "Alright. Let's just say that my job is to find people who do bad things so my boss can give them exactly what they have coming to them."

Ford felt Fiddleford shudder beside him, and if he was being entirely honest with himself he too felt a shiver go down his spine. There was just something about the way that Jimmy said that that made Ford feel uneasy.

"W-what kind of things would they have coming to them?" Fiddleford asked shakily, though by the tone of his voice Ford knew that he didn't really want an answer.

"Whatever my boss feels they deserve." Jimmy shrugged and tried to wave off the issue. As he did so Ford caught a glimpse of something on the palm of his hand.

"What's that on your hand?" Ford asked.

"This?" Jimmy looked down at his hand. "It's just one of my tattoos." He didn't show it though, and so far Jimmy had been more than happy to share his tattoos with anybody who showed the slightest interest in them. The fact that Jimmy didn't immediately show off this tattoo made Ford suspicious.

"Can I see it?" Ford asked.

"Nah, I'd really rather you didn't." Jimmy said in a tone that sounded like he was trying to be casual, but felt much too stern. "It's not something for kids to-hey! What are you doing?!" Jimmy protested when Ford grabbed his hand to get a good look at the tattoo on his palm. Ford felt his blood run cold when he saw what it was.

Jimmy's tattoo looked more like a brand mark than an actual tattoo. It had the shape of a five pointed star with a circle around it. Ford recognized the symbol as a pentagram. There wasn't anything inherently bad about the symbol, as many people seemed to believe, but the angle at which Ford was looking at it added a whole new meaning.

There were two points facing Ford, pointing towards Jimmy's fingers. This was the bottom of the star, of course. But assuming that Jimmy had gotten the symbol so that it would be rightside up if he was just holding his hand out, than wouldn't it make more sense to have the bottom of the star be facing his palm instead? Unless, of course, it _was._

If what Ford was thinking was correct, than the single point towards Jimmy's palm, which was normally the top of the star, was actually the _bottom_ while the two points that normally made up the bottom were actually the _top._ In that case, then it wasn't a pentagram, it was an _inverted_ pentagram, which was something entirely different, and it gave Ford a bad feeling about Stan's friend.

"Hey!" Jimmy yanked his hand away from Ford's. "Get away from he, you freak!" Jimmy shoved Ford away from him, probably with more force than he had intended. Ford went stumbling back against Fiddleford, sending both of them sprawling to the ground. Ford looked fearfully up at Jimmy, and he decided that he _really_ didn't like the dark look in that guy's eyes.

"Hey!" Stan shouted, and he sounded absolutely furious. Ford turned to see his brother storming towards them, and there was an intense anger in Stan's eyes that he hadn't seen before. "Stay away from my brother, you jerk." Stan dropped two of the cans of Pit Cola he had been holding. The third one he opened, which caused it to start spraying uncontrollably, which meant that Stan had probably shaken it up before hand.

Stan aimed the spurting soda towards Jimmy, completely drenching him in sticky soda. Once the burst began to die down Stan threw the can at Jimmy, effectively hitting him right in the nose. And it looked like it hit pretty hard too.

"Ow!" Jimmy's dark glare moved to Stan, and if anything Ford found the almost soulless look of anger even more unsettling when it was towards his brother. "What the _hell_ was that for, Pines?" Not _Stan,_ and not _Kitten_. _Pines_. Jimmy must be furious.

As angry as Jimmy was, it was nothing compared to Stan. Ford could practically see the anger flowing off of him in waves. "You don't get to talk to my brother like that. You don't get to talk to him _at all_. And if I ever see you touch him again, then there _will_ be hell to pay."

Ford blinked in shock. He had _never_ heard Stan swear before. He used fake substitute swears that sounded more funny than intimidating, but not _real_ swears.

Which meant that Stan was _beyond_ furious.

Even Jimmy realized that Stan's anger was burning so strongly that it couldn't just be rationed away. They would just have to let it burn out, and Jimmy probably thought that it wasn't worth waiting around for that to happen.

"You want me gone, Kitten?" Jimmy asked. He still sounded angry, but at least it seemed like he was _trying_ to reign it in, for Stan's sake.

"Yeah I want you gone." Stan shouted. "I want you so far gone that I never have to see your stupid face again." Now _that_ sounded more like the angry Stanley that Ford knew. Like a twelve year old who wanted to sound more tough than he really was.

"Then I'm gone." Jimmy grabbed his bike helmet, got on his motorcycle, and rode off without another word. Stan stood there, fists clenched so tightly at his side that Ford thought that he might see blood, and just glared at where Jimmy had been. Ford and Fiddleford meanwhile were just trying to figure out what the heck had just happened.

"Uh, Stanley?" Fiddleford said quietly. "You doin' okay there?"

"What?" Stan blinked and wiped at his eyes with the back of his first. Ford wondered if some soda had gotten into his eyes. "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. I mean, who needs that jerk anyways?" The way that Stan's voice cracked said that he felt like _he_ needed that jerk. "Are you okay?" Stan held his hand out to help Ford to his feet, his eyes filled with concern. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"N-no." Ford said uneasily. "I'm fine."

Stan sighed in relief. "That's good. I thought that...I mean, I can't believe that Jimmy is just like everybody else." Stan's eyes lowered to the ground. "I thought that he was different."

Ford flinched slightly at the harsh glare that Fiddleford sent his way. His friend definitely had a way of making him feel like things were _his_ fault. Ford didn't feel bad about what had just happened (he didn't even fully understand what had just happened). In fact, he was relieved that Jimmy had left and that Stan didn't want him around anymore. Ford _hoped_ that Stan kept him away from now on.

Sure, maybe it was a little unfair that Stan had assumed that Jimmy was no better than their schoolyard bullies when _Ford_ had been the one to push him. But Ford was convinced that this was for the best. The important thing was that Stanley recognized that Jimmy Snakes was not a good person, and it didn't matter _how_ he came to this realization.

Right?

Besides, Stan would get over it in a few days, and even if he didn't, this was for his own good. Whatever Ford had done, he was convinced that it was the right thing. And he didn't feel guilty about it at all...mostly. Alright, sure, there were lingering doubts that Jimmy wasn't really evil, but Ford quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Afterall, both him _and_ Great Uncle Dipper thought that there was something wrong with Jimmy, and even Fiddleford had admitted that he wasn't normal.

And what were the chances that the three of them, with all of their combined intellects, were wrong and Stanley was right? They weren't very high.

Still, in the furthest parts of Ford's mind he knew that there still _was_ the possibility that Stan had been right, in which case Ford had unintentionally ruined his brother's first actual friendship for nothing. But that couldn't be the case. It just couldn't.

... _Right?_

* * *

 **A/N: That took a little longer to write than I had expected, but it also seems longer than I had originally intended. Oh well, I mean, it's not like I'm going to complain about having longer chapters. They just take more time to write.**

 **On a side note, oh, gee** _ ***please note the sarcasm here***_ **I wonder who Jimmy's boss could be? Yeah, everybody probably knows. I mean, I'm not exactly being subtle about it. And I** _ **did**_ **also say who it was in an author's note in the first chapter. But it was never supposed to be a secret for the readers. Any hints I give are more like reasons to make Ford or Dipper feel absolutely paranoid about this guy.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is, like, half as short as the others, but I think it works best on it's own instead of grouped together with the next one. And a shorter chapter means that the story gets updated sooner, so that's a perk, right?**

 **Either way, I'll try not to have the next chapter be as short.**

* * *

For as long as he could remember, Ford had been fascinated with the paranormal and unnatural. He loved to learn about anomalies and try to theorize where they came from or why they happened.

Despite how nearly supernatural his hobby and passion was, Ford still first and foremost considered himself a scientist. One thing about science that many people, even scientists themselves sometimes, seemed to forget was that the purpose of science and research was not to be right all the time, it was to find the truth.

As more resources became available, more truths became clear. And sometimes these new resources disproved a scientific idea that had been around for a long time. As new ideas presented themselves, and new technology to explore these ideas, the existing ideas and theories about science evolved or even disappeared altogether.

Because Ford considered himself a scientist, he tried to keep an open mind. It didn't work out all the time, because his passion always seemed to get in the way of his work. Still, Ford liked to think that, even when it came to the paranormal and unexplainable, he wasn't afraid to admit that he may have been wrong about something.

 _This_ thought? This problem was one that Ford had been absolutely confident about, and Great Uncle Dipper had believed the same thing. Ford had thought that there was no way he could be wrong about Jimmy Snakes.

Now though, Ford was beginning to second guess his first theory, and his doubts terrified him. Ford could usually handle being wrong, but if he was wrong about the kind of person that Jimmy Snakes was, then he would have unintentionally scared off his brother's first friend for no reason.

Ford didn't like to consider his doubts though, because it was already hard enough seeing Stan mope around the shack, pretending that he was okay when he obviously wasn't. Ford _really_ didn't think he would be able to deal with seeing Stan mope around if he knew that it was all for nothing.

As much as he didn't like to think about what he may or may not have done wrong, Ford didn't just ignore his brother. How could he? And even though Ford knew that he wasn't very good with recognizing emotions, let alone understanding them, even _he_ could tell that Stan was upset. And it didn't take a genius to guess why.

"Do you really still miss him?" Ford asked his brother after a week. Not that he was judging or anything...alright, so he was judging _a little._ Mostly though he was just curious. Why would somebody refuse to see somebody else, and then get all depressed because they weren't around anymore?

Ford saw Stan flinch slightly at the question before he was able to slip into his 'I-don't-care' facade. Stan shrugged. "No. Why would I?"

Ford leaned against the living room chair that Stan was sitting on. Stan's eyes were completely glued to the television, but Ford couldn't tell whether he was truly watching it, or just using it as an excuse to not have a conversation right then.

"He was your friend." Ford didn't know why he was saying this. He didn't _want_ Stan to decide that he wanted Jimmy to come back. He _wanted_ his brother to be mad at the man.

"No, he wasn't." Stan said, a dark, frightening look coming into his eyes that Ford had started to see more and more of as they got older and their school bullies got crueler. "I would _never_ be friends with somebody who thinks it's okay to shove people around and call them freaks just because of something they can't help."

Ford felt his stomach churn with guilt. In his mind's eye he could see Fiddleford's disappointed glare. Ford was really fond of his friend, but Fiddleford really had a way of making people feel bad about something they had done.

And, boy, did Ford feel bad. As pleased as he was with the outcome, Ford still felt guilty about his actions. If Stan was going to kick somebody that he obviously cared about out of his life, then he at least deserved to know _why._

"Uh...Stan?" Ford fiddled with his hands nervously. His twin finally dragged his eyes away from the television to look at him curiously. "There's something you should know."

"What's goin' on, Sixer?" Stan asked, his voice filled with concern. For some reason, this just made what Ford was about to admit harder to say.

"I-" Ford took a deep breath. "Jimmy... _didn't_ call me a freak because of my hands."

Stan frowned in confusion. "Why else would he?"

"I...You know how Jimmy has all of these tattoos?" Ford asked too quickly.

Stan furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly, looking even more confused than before. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Have you seen the tattoo on his palm?" Ford asked, somewhat urgently.

"Yeah, it's a star pentagram thing." Stan was familiar with the symbol, probably because of all the movies he watched.

"It was an _inverted_ pentagram." Ford was quick to correct his brother, because that little detail made all the difference.

"How do you know it wasn't just a normal pentagram that you were looking at upside down?" Stan asked, which just made Ford feel frustrated. How was he supposed to explain the situation to Stan if he refused to understand?

"Because it makes sense!" Ford said in a slightly raised tone, because he _needed_ Stan to understand.

"Makes sense?" Stan frowned slightly. "What're you talking about? Do...Do you really think that Jimmy was some devil worshiping weirdo?"

It sounded like a strange accusation when Stan said it like that, but yes, that was essentially what Ford thought, amongst other things. "I'm not the only one." Ford said. "Great Uncle Dipper also thinks that-"

"Dipper?" Stan blinked. "Hang on, you're not telling me that you guys thought that Jimmy was some sort of _monster_ or something...are you?"

"It's not _that_ crazy of a theory, Stanley." Ford was relieved that Stan understood what he had been getting at. He didn't understand why Stan's eyes seemed to darken again at his words though. "We've found some evidence that suggests that-"

"Evidence?!" Ford's eyes widened in shock and he found himself taking a step back from the chair. He hadn't expected how angry Stan would get. "You were looking for _proof_ that my friend was one of your crazy monster things? Why would you do that?!"

"Because...because…" Ford began to sweat. This wasn't the first time that Stan had been mad at him, but Ford wasn't used to having _this_ kind of anger directed at him. Stan usually reserved this kind of anger for those kids at school who bullied Ford. _This_ kind of anger was specifically for the people who dared to mess with something, or somebody, that Stan cared a lot about.

Ford was beginning to think that he had messed up.

It was difficult to think clearly with his brother glaring him down like he was no better than their schoolyard bullies, and Ford found himself answering Stan's question in the first way that came to his mind. "...Because I don't like him."

Stan growled and, before Ford could even think or react, he bounded forward and punched him right in the jaw. Ford let out a yell of pain and stumbled back. He looked at his twin with wide, hurt eyes, which soon filled with fear when he saw how absolutely furious Stan looked. And when Stan got _this_ angry, he didn't talk through his problems, he _punched_ through them.

Ford let out a sound that was a mix between a scream and a squeak as he scrambled away from his mad brother. Ford ran out of the room quickly, with Stan right at his toes.

"Grauntie Mabel!" Ford shouted as he tried to run from his brother. "Great Uncle Dipper!" In his rush to get away from Stan Ford got reckless with his running and didn't notice the graphing paper that he had left out before. Ford slipped on the paper and crashed to the ground. He knew that Stan was right behind him, and Ford only had one defense available to him. He curled up into a ball, held up his arms to protect his head, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. " _Help!"_

"What the heck is going on here?" Ford yelped and opened his eyes in shock when he felt surprisingly strong hands grab his arms and pull him back. Ford felt himself calm down when his Great Uncle Dipper pulled him behind him. Of course, it also helped that Grauntie Mabel was there too, and she was holding a struggling Stan back.

"Stanley, sweetie, what's gotten into you?" Mabel knelt down to look Stan in the eyes, though she still kept a firm grip on his shoulders.

"Did he get into the unicorn blood again?" Dipper asked. "He _knows_ how violent that stuff makes him."

"Grrr...This is all _your_ fault." Stan shouted in Dipper and Ford's direction, though neither of them knew exactly who he was yelling at. "You and your dumb conspiracies ruin _everything."_ Ford was taken aback when he saw how glossy his brother's eyes were. Was Stan _crying?_ When he was _angry?_ Was that a thing?

Ford apparently hadn't been the only one to notice the tears. Mabel also saw how wet Stan's eyes were, and, in her surprise and concern, she loosened her hold on Stan's shoulders. Ford flinched when he saw Stan pull away from their great aunt, afraid that he would come after him again. That fear vanished when Stan ran right past him to go upstairs to their attic bedroom, where he slammed the door loudly behind him.

"...What was _that_ all about?" Dipper asked.

"You know, I was wondering the same thing." Dipper and Ford both flinched at Mabel's tone. The two of them turned to look at her, and almost wished that they hadn't. Mabel's arms were crossed and she was glaring at them both. "What did you two do?"

"Us?" Dipper looked offended. "Why did you think that _we_ were the ones who did anything? _Stan's_ the one going around trying to attack people."

"Yes, and I want to know _why."_ Mabel glared at her brother. He glare softened when she turned her attention to Ford. "Stanford, what happened between you two?"

Ford bit his lip and tried to push away the growing feeling of discomfort and guilt in his stomach. "I-I just told Stan the truth about what happened with Jimmy."

"What truth?" Mabel asked, her tone still soft and encouraging.

"I told him how me and Great Uncle Dipper think that Jimmy's some weird creature in disguise." It was a lot easier to tell Mabel than it had been to tell Stan.

"A demon." Dipper corrected Ford quickly, and the twelve year old was shocked by just how determined and convinced his Great Uncle sounded. "I - _we_ \- think that Jimmy Snakes is a demon."

Mabel frowned, though not in an angry way. It was more like in a slightly disappointed, but mostly concerned kind of way, with just a little bit of annoyance. "Demons, Dipper?" She sounded tired. "Again?" Ford hadn't expected _that_. What did she mean ' _again'._

"I'm not just being paranoid this time, Mabel." Dipper protested. "I swear, there's something up with this Jimmy guy. If he's _not_ a demon, then he's at least involved with one, and that makes him dangerous."

"Uh, how are you so sure that he's a demon?" Ford asked, because last he had heard they had only been checking for _any_ supernatural entity. Why was his great uncle singling out demons specifically?

"Dipper, even _if_ Jimmy is involved with some kind of demon, and I really doubt that he is, how does that prove that he's dangerous?" Mabel gave Dipper a look that Ford just didn't understand. "You know that just because somebody is involved with a demon does not mean that they're automatically a bad person."

Ford was more confused than ever. What did his great aunt mean by that? Demons were evil by nature. _Of course_ somebody was a bad person if they messed around with them.

"Mabel, I don't _care_ if you think I'm paranoid." Dipper said in a voice that was filled with so much determination that it sounded kinda insane and scared Ford a little bit. "I don't _care_ that I might be completely wrong about Stan's friend. _All_ I care about is the safety of this family, and I'm not about to let another demon ruin things for us again!" Dipper was all but shouting at this last part, and Ford knew that it was time that he leave. It was clear that his great aunt and uncle had a lot to discuss, and he really didn't want to get caught in the crossfires of their argument.

Ford scurried up the stairs and hurried into the attic bedroom, only to freeze in the doorway when he saw that Stan was in there. How could Ford have forgotten about him? Ford stood frozen and held his breath as he watched his brother, who, thankfully, had his back to him, try to punch the inanimate daylights out of a punching bag. It was a frayed old thing that Dipper had found for Stan on their second day in Gravity Falls when the man had discovered that Stan had a tendency to punch first, talk things out later.

Ford was about to creep back out into the hallway before Stan noticed him when he noticed a weird design on his brother's back. Stan had told Ford (multiple times) about the cool marker tattoo that Jimmy had apparently done for him, but this was the first time that Ford was actually able to get a good look at it. The design wasn't what Ford had been expecting. It wasn't some fictional creature, or symbol from a movie. It looked like the kind of design that Stan wouldn't have looked twice at, let alone wanted drawn on his back.

Ford knew that Jimmy had been the one, not only to draw the 'tattoo', but to decide what the 'tattoo' would be of. Ford wouldn't normally feel so bothered by this, except he could swear that he recognized that symbol on Stan's back. He had _definitely_ seen it before in a couple of great uncle Dipper's books, and all over the shack, particularly in the basement.

Ford didn't know what it meant, or if it even meant anything at all, but he knew that his uncle would.

Ford ingrained the image of the picture in his mind's eye. He then left the room before Stan could turn and notice him, and then decide that he wanted to take his frustrations out on somebody that would actually react to his punches. Ford took out his journal and a pen out of his pocket and drew the symbol on an empty page as he headed downstairs.

Dipper and Mabel were still arguing about something, but Ford could tell by the tone of their voices that it was an argument that they had had multiple times before. He figured it wouldn't be that big a deal if he interrupted them this time.

"Great Uncle Dipper?" Ford asked in a loud voice, because how else was he supposed to be heard? His great aunt and uncle paused in their arguing and turned to him in surprise, as though they had forgotten that he had been there in the first place. Ford wondered if they had even noticed that he had left.

Now that he had their attention, Ford turned his journal to show his uncle the page he had drawn on just moments before. "Does this symbol mean something?"

Dipper blinked in shock. He took one look at the design that Ford had drawn and nodded his head. "Yes, it's a symbol of protection."

Ford frowned. That didn't sound right. "Then why would Jimmy have drawn it on Stan's back?"

"What?" Dipper's eyes went wide.

"Yeah. You know that 'tattoo' that Stan won't shut up about? That's _this."_ Ford pointed at the symbol on the page, to prove his point.

"That's...impossible." Dipper muttered under his breath as he grabbed the journal from Ford's hands and looked at the symbol carefully. After a minute he looked back at Ford. "And you're _sure_ that this is on Stan's back?"

"Positive." Ford said, though he felt slightly offended that his great uncle would ask if he was sure about _anything._

The look in Dipper's eyes changed, and Ford was surprised to see doubt in them, though also focus. Mabel noticed the look in his eyes too.

"What are you thinking about, Dipper?" Mabel asked.

Dipper looked down at Ford's journal. "...I think I need to go and have a talk with Jimmy Snakes."

* * *

 **A/N: And here I thought that I didn't like writing Dipper in this story. He was kinda fun to write for this chapter, all paranoid and kinda crazy. Paranoid crazy Dipper is always the funnest Dipper to write, I guess. So, yeah, Dipper and Ford are starting to realize that maybe they're not as smart as they both think they are. About time, right?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: What is Gravity Falls doing to me? All day my mind has been focused on another fandom that I've been working on another fanfic for, but as soon as I get access to a computer my brain goes** " _ **Write about Gravity Falls".**_ **Sorry, Milo Murphy's Law story, you'll just have to wait another day or two.**

* * *

Ford hated that he was still a child, because he hated being treated like a child. Between him and Dipper, Ford had been the first one to realize that maybe they had made a mistake in acting so hastily about Jimmy. And yet, when Dipper had decided to go and learn once and for all who Jimmy Snakes was and what he wanted, he refused to take Ford with him.

"We still don't know if this guy's dangerous or not, and if it turns out that he is, I don't want you in harm's way." Ford seethed just remembered his Great Uncle's words to him. "And I have some...grown up matters to talk to him about."

Grown up matters. Stan had once told him that that term was code for ' _we're going to mention some stupid mistakes that we've made, and we can't let kids in on the secret that adults screw up sometimes too'._ Ford didn't necessarily believe that Stan's definition was entirely accurate, but he thought that it suited this particular situation pretty well.

Ford absolutely hated it. He hated that his great uncle treated him like a little kid, even though intellectually he was so much more than that. He hated how he wanted answers just as much as Great Uncle Dipper did, but just because he was 'too young', he couldn't get them.

He hated how useless he felt because of it.

Ford wasn't used to feeling like he had messed up. Not like this. It was a weird, conflicted kind of feeling. It was almost as though Ford's head still believed that he was right to not trust Jimmy Snakes around him brother, but his heart insisted that he should have just trusted Stan on the matter. Ford wasn't used to his emotions having any major influence on what he did or thought, and he wasn't so sure that he liked it.

Ford didn't know how Stanley, who definitely wore his heart on his sleeves, could handle all the raw emotion. Was this why Stan was a punch first, ask questions later, kind of guy? Because punching was an impulsive reaction to strong emotions?

Ford made a mental note to look into this idea a little more later.

"What're you thinking about, Ford?" The boy jumped in surprise and looked up towards his great aunt. There was a strange, mischievous look in her eyes, and Ford knew that she was up to something. Chances were, he wasn't going to like what she had in mind.

"N-nothing." Ford cursed his inability to lie like his brother could. Maybe if Grauntie Mabel believed that he was busy, then she wouldn't get him involved in whatever scheme she was thinking of.

Mabel grinned. "We both know that's not true. You're _always_ thinking about something." The older woman rustled Ford's hair. He hated it when she did that. "But, if you're not too busy right now, do you think you could go get your brother for me? I want to talk to him."

Ford looked at his great aunt like she was crazy, and sometimes he honestly thought that she was. "Why don't _you_ go get him?" Ford suggested cautiously. After all, Grauntie Mabel was much less likely to be punched in the face for bothering Stan.

"Oh, you know, these old bones have a hard time going up and done those stairs all the time." Mabel laughed slightly, which just made Ford feel more suspicious. She only ever played the old card to manipulate others, and, unfortunately, it worked like a charm. Ford couldn't say no to her when she used the ' _I'm old'_ excuse. Stan could, but Ford always felt extremely guilty whenever he did, even though he knew that his aunt was just manipulating him.

Ford sighed. "Yeah, I'll go get him." He hoped that his aunt was ready to deal with the consequences when he did. Ford slowly and cautiously made his way up the stairs. He took in a deep breath and opened the attic door. Stan wasn't taking his frustration out on his punching bag anymore, so Ford felt that it was safe to assume that even if his brother was still angry, he had tired out his aggression by this point.

Ford opened his mouth to tell Stan that Mabel wanted to talk to him, but his words got caught in his throat when he saw his brother. Stan was lying on his bed, his back towards the door. Stan's body was too tense for him to truly be asleep, he was just lying there. Stan always did this same thing after a bad day at school, or after their dad yelled at him. He just tried to shut out the world, and it hurt Ford to know that this time it had been _his_ fault.

Ford tried to gather his thoughts enough to say _anything._ Before he could though Ford felt a strong but not extremely harsh push against his back that sent him stumbling into the room. Ford turned around just quick enough to see Grauntie Mabel, a determined look in her eyes, before she closed the door and locked it from the outside.

Ford had _known_ that this was a trap.

"Wha- _hey_!" Ford scrambled back to the door and tried, unsuccessfully, to open it. "Grauntie Mabel, what are you doing?"

"An intervention." Mabel said from the other side of the door. Ford groaned at her words, and he could hear Stan sitting up behind him. "You two can come out when you've hugged out your issues."

Ford scowled and glared at the door. "I hate it when she does this."

"Did you seriously fall for the 'old bones' trick again?" Ford turned to find Stan staring at him, an eyebrow raised in judgemental disbelief that made him feel defensive. "You can't be so gullible, Ford." Was that a hint of amusement in Stan's voice? Ford felt his face go red. Of course his brother would laugh at him for not being so mistrusting.

Ford crossed his arms. "Well, excuse me for wanting to respect the elderly. At least I'm not running around, kicking them in the shins."

Stan frowned. "H-hey, that was _one_ time. And I'm telling you, that broad had it coming."

"S-Stan!" For had spent his whole life with his brother, and he didn't think he would ever get used to Stan's harsh, unapologetic way of doing things.

Stan just laughed and swung his legs off the side of the bed. "You're too easy to mess with." Ford pouted slightly. He didn't like it when Stan teased him like this, but it was a relief to see that Stan was acting more like himself. Still, he knew that their great aunt wasn't going to let them out until they had worked out whatever problems they had. She took her 'hugging it out' solution very seriously.

"Stan," Ford sighed and put his hands behind his back nervously. "...About Jimmy-"

"No." Stan said, and in an instant his expression became guarded and angry. For a moment Ford wondered how Stan could switch between his emotions so quickly. Half an hour ago he had been furious, five seconds ago he had been normal, and now he was right back to being angry. It took Ford a second to realize that Stan's emotions hadn't ever switched, just his expression had.

Stan had been _faking_ just a few moments ago. To _Ford._ Stanford had seen Stan put his guard up and hide his emotions before, but it had always been for somebody else's sake. Stan had always felt comfortable with showing how he truly felt in front of Ford. Or, at least, Ford _thought_ that he had. But now Stan was putting up masks for _him_ too.

...Or, had he always been doing this and Ford had just never noticed it before?

Ford fiddled with his hands anxiously behind his back. He hated this. He hated second guessing his brother at every step, and not being sure of who he could trust, if anybody.

Ford just hated all of the complicated emotions that seemed to come with being in Gravity Falls. Back in New Jersey the main emotions that Ford felt were pride and shame. Everything else was basically just branched off emotions from those two. Things were a lot simpler at home. It may not always be pleasant, but at least Ford always knew what to expect there.

The unknown...it scared him. Stan was always better at rolling with the punches and dealing with whatever came his way. He didn't need a plan. He didn't need to know and understand things just to not be afraid of them. And even though Ford had never told his brother this, it was something that he really envied.

"Stan, you know that Grauntie Mabel's not even going to think about letting us out until we talk about this." Ford said, cutting to the chase. He didn't want to have this conversation any more than Stan did, but Ford had only just been locked in the attic and he was already feeling more emotionally drained than he would like. And he knew it would just get worse the longer he was in here.

It was best to just face the issue head on instead of beating around the bush.

"So?" Stan scowled slightly and raised an eyebrow at him. "Why can't we just not talk about this and say that we did?"

"She wouldn't fall for that." Ford said, though he wasn't sure why he needed to. He _knew_ that Stan already knew that Mabel was too smart to just take their word for it. "Come on, the sooner we get this over with the better. I don't want to be locked in here for five hours with you."

Stan's eyes darkened and Ford began to wonder what he had said wrong. "Shoulda known you just wanted to get away from me."

Ford's eyes widened. Was _that_ what Stan had taken away from what he had said? Why would he focus on that? "That's not what I meant!" Ford said loudly. "Why would you think that?"

"You've made it pretty clear that you don't want me around." Stan shrugged.

"What are you talking about?" Ford felt his face heat up. " _You're_ the one who has been avoiding me." Even before the whole fallout with Jimmy, Stan had been finding every excuse under the moon to not spend time with Ford.

"Only because _you_ made it clear that you would rather be around Fiddlenerd than me!" Stan shouted, his voice cracking at the end. Ford froze.

Fiddleford? What the heck did Fiddleford have to do with any of this? Ford was about to ask Stan just this when he realized that his brother was still talking.

"I-it was supposed to just be the two of us." Stan said in a low voice that Ford could barely hear. Stan was looking at the ground and refused to even look in Ford's direction. "It was supposed to be the two of use forever, but that all changed just because you met someone just like you."

"Stan," Ford didn't know what to say, partially because he still didn't completely understand what Stan himself was saying, and partially because Ford just didn't do well with emotional issues.

I-I get it." Stan's voice was quiet and more calm than Ford was used to. It almost sounded accepting, but what, exactly, was Stan accepting? "You're smart, and Fidds is smart." Stan smiled slightly, but it was sad and strained. Stan curled his legs up against his chest. "It makes sense that you would rather be with him than some dumb, stupid _idiot_ who only knows how to punch people." Stan buried his face in his knees and clutched so hard at his hair with his hands that his fingers began to turn white.

Ford's eyes widened. He didn't understand where all of these emotions were coming from, or how Stan could switch from being angry to crying in a matter of seconds. Had his anger been a mask to cover up his sadness? Just how many masks did Stan have? Why did he feel like he needed so many of them? And, though Ford felt a little bad for thinking this, why was Stan choosing _now_ to let his real (?) feelings show?

Ford had so many questions running through his head, as well as doubts. It was really weird for Ford to see his twin breaking down like this, and he didn't know what to do about it. Did he leave him alone and let him work it out for himself? Did he comfort him, and, if so, how?

Ford didn't know what to do. This was unfamiliar territory for him. Ford was used to being the one reduced to tears, while _Stan_ was the one who was always right there to help him pick up the pieces. Stan may not always know how to _say_ the most comforting thing, but he was always _there,_ and that was always what helped Ford the most.

...Maybe it would help Stan too.

Still feeling unsure, and just a little foolish, Ford slowly made his way to the other side of the room and sat down on the bed next to Stan. He didn't put a comforting hand on Stan's back or anything like that, because he knew his brother, and he knew that he flinched at the smallest bit of contact when he was like this. Only Grauntie Mabel or their mother could get away with touching him when he was upset.

Instead, Ford just sat there. He tried to think of something, _anything,_ to say to his brother, but his mind wasn't cooperating with him. Only one thought went through Ford's head, and it was one that he couldn't believe he would have to say to his brother, because he had thought that Stan already knew this...didn't he? Or was that all just an act too?

"You're not an idiot." Ford said, and it was the truth. Stan may not do all that well in school, and sometimes he needed things explained to him in a different way. And Stan rarely if ever actually thought things through before acting, but that didn't make him an idiot. It just made him Stan. _Ford_ understood that...didn't Stan?

"I-I don't know what you have against Fiddleford." Ford said, because he really didn't understand it. "But I'm not...I'm not trying to replace you." That _had_ been what Stan had been saying, right? Ford really hoped that he hadn't misunderstood things. Again.

"Feels like you are." Stan muttered into his knees.

"Well, I'm not." Ford said. Stan shook his head as though he didn't believe him. "It's the truth!" Ford insisted. "You _know_ I'm a terrible liar. Am I lying to you?"

"...No." Stan finally lifted his head out of his knees enough to peek out at Ford. "...But what if you're wrong?"

Ford felt his breath catch in his throat. Stan was always the one person who seemed to believe Ford without questioning him, and _this_ was what he was doubting? Why?

"I'm not." Ford said. He didn't know how he could prove to Stan that he was right about this...Except, of course, to not keep on pushing his and Stan's plans to the side because he would rather spend time with Fiddleford.

...No wonder Stan had thought he had been trying to replace him.

And as false as Ford thought the accusation was, he didn't think it was completely ridiculous and unfounded. Besides, Ford couldn't bring himself to be irritated with Stan for jumping to such conclusions about Fiddleford when Ford himself had done the same thing about Jimmy.

Right from the second that Ford had met the man, he had decided that he didn't like Jimmy snakes, though he couldn't fully explain why. Part of it was because of a bad first impression. The man _had_ almost run over his brother, after all. And while part of the reason why Ford didn't trust Jimmy had something to do with him suspecting that the man was a magical creature of sorts, it wasn't all of it.

Ever since coming to Gravity Falls Ford had encountered and met all kinds of creatures, and while some of them were vicious and couldn't be trusted, a surprising amount of them were actually quite harmless.

It wasn't the possibility that Jimmy was not a human that made Ford dislike him. It was...it was the fact that Stan liked him. Ford would never admit it to anybody, not even to himself, but he was jealous of how much Stan looked up to Jimmy, and how excited he always seemed to be whenever the man was around.

Ford was jealous, and he wouldn't even admit it to himself.

 _This_ was why Ford hated emotions. They were just so ugly and made people do stupid things. On the other hand though, it was because Stan was so in tune with his emotions that he had been willing to admit that he was jealous of Fiddleford. Ford despised his emotions so much that he was in complete denial that he was even jealous at all.

He was somewhat envious that Stan could accept his own jealousy so easily.

There was a knocking on the door, which Ford didn't see the point of. It wasn't as though _they_ could open the door, because, for some reason, the attic could only be locked (and unlocked) from the outside. Ford's theory was that Great Uncle Dipper had planned on using the attic as a place to store dangerous creatures and magical artifacts before he had built the bunker.

The two brothers heard the door unlocking. The second that Stan saw that it was Mabel he groaned and buried his head in his legs again. He was still trying to hide how he was feeling.

(Why was he trying so hard to hide?)

"I thought that you two might be thirsty." Mabel said as she came in carrying a tray with three mugs of hot chocolate on it. Ford didn't even bother pointing out that hot chocolate was not the best beverage to quench one's thirst, because he knew that his great aunt wouldn't listen, and he knew that that wasn't actually the reason why she had come up. She was just there to help pick up the pieces after the fight that she had all but forced out of them.

She always did this...just like their ma did.

"You always come up here at the worst times." Stan grumbled, his voice muffled by his knees. "Gotta be psychic like Ma."

Ford grinned slightly in amusement. Stan honest and truly believed that their mother was a real psychic, because she was always there with a mug of hot chocolate or a plate of fresh cookies whenever one of them was feeling particularly down. Ford would also think that there was something supernatural about the women in the lives somehow always knowing when they needed them, if it weren't for the fact that when Stan or Ford was really, truly upset about something, their tears usually came after a yelling match that could be heard from the next town over.

It wasn't really much of a secret how their ma and Mabel always seemed to know when their anger had died down to the more hurt filled emotions. All they had to do was listen for when the yelling stopped, wait a minute or two, and then go to their room to find one or both of them close to tears.

Great Aunt Mabel smiled and joined the two of them on the bed. She handed Ford his mug, and nudged Stan's leg until he grabbed his. "So...How'd it go?"

"Well, we didn't kill each other, so I guess it went as well as can be expected." Ford still wasn't amused by Mabel's methods of getting them to get along with each other. Surely there had to be a middle ground between ignoring their issues until they couldn't keep it in anymore, and being forced to talk things through when neither of them were ready for it.

"Did you work things out though?" Mabel pushed, because she didn't want to do this all over again within the next week.

"...I think so." Ford said slowly, but with a fair amount of confidence. He knew what had made Stan so angry in the first place _(finally)_ , and Stan had been able to vent his frustrations. Maybe things weren't perfect, but at least Stan had let out a good amount of bottled up emotions, and Ford now had an idea of what he could do to stop those feelings from just building up all over again.

Mabel frowned slightly. She didn't like 'I think so's when it came to family. To her, it was an all or nothing kind of thing. One either cared about their family, or they didn't. One could know exactly where their relationship stood, or have no idea at all. There was no in between. Even though in the past she and Dipper had had their own in between moments she still refused to believe that a relationship could work with them.

She was stubborn in that way.

"Do you guys still want to talk about it?" Mabel asked.

"No!" Stan and Ford answered quickly. Neither of them had wanted to talk about it in the first place, but their great aunt didn't like to just leave things alone. If she thought there was something wrong between them, she got herself involved.

It was times like this that Ford wished that Great Uncle Dipper was around. The man believed that Stan and Ford should work out their relationship for themselves and he didn't interfere unless it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, Great Uncle Dipper wasn't even _around_. He had gone to talk to Jimmy Snakes, which Ford was still bitter about.

He wondered how he was doing.

* * *

Dipper had no idea what he was doing. He didn't even have a plan. His mind was too filled with thoughts of paranoia and old whispering taunts that he had thought he had forgotten. Despite his lack of a proper plan, or even an outline or basic idea of one, Dipper felt more determined than he had felt in a long time. He may not know exactly _what_ he was doing, but he knew _why._

He was doing this for his family. He was doing this so that he could be sure that they were safe, and that they were happy.

With that thought in mind Dipper took a deep breath to gather up his nerves, and he knocked on the motel room door. It hadn't been that hard to find where Jimmy Snakes was staying, there were only so many motels and inns in Gravity Falls, and the biker had a very distinctive look to him. Dipper actually spent more time trying to convince himself to go through with this than he did trying to find where Jimmy was staying.

But now he was here, he had knocked on the door, and as unsure as he felt about this whole situation, Dipper wasn't going to turn back.

Not this time.

Dipper could hear some rustling and angry mutters from inside the apartment before the door opened. Jimmy scowled when he saw who was at his door.

"What're you doin' here, Pines?" Jimmy asked gruffly, and Dipper immediately found himself becoming tense and nervous. It was because Jimmy wasn't wearing his sunglasses, and Dipper absolutely hated the inhuman look in his eyes. They didn't look _entirely_ unnatural, but they most definitely weren't normal, and Dipper had a huge problem with eyes that weren't normal.

He pushed his old paranoid thoughts and fears to the back of his mind where they belonged. He had come to talk to Jimmy, not to get scared of him. "We need to talk, Snakes." Dipper said. "...About Stan."

Jimmy's glare softened as a concerned look came into his eyes, which actually put a spark of life into his seemingly soulless eyes. "Is Kitten okay?" And Dipper knew at that moment that as much as he didn't trust Jimmy, the man did sincerely care about Stan.

But Dipper still needed to be sure that the boy was safe with him.

"Stan's fine." Dipper said. "He's been upset since you left though. He misses having you around."

"You can't tell me that you're here to convince me to come back." Jimmy raised an eyebrow. We both know that you think he's better off with me gone."

"True." Dipper admitted. "But I know Stan, and I know that sooner or later he's going to come after you."

"And, let me guess, if he does you want me to keep away from him because you don't trust me?" Jimmy did not look amused at all.

"...Not exactly." Dipper said. "I wouldn't be able to stop him _or_ you." Dipper knew that if it was absolutely necessary he could, but it would just make Stan absolutely furious with him. "But if Stan's going to be around you, then I need to know that he's safe."

"What does that have to do with what you're doing here?" Jimmy asked. "You'll never trust me anyways." That much was true. Even if Dipper _was_ there for Stan's sake, he still would never fully trust Jimmy Snakes...but he trusted Stan, and that's why he was there.

"This isn't about trust." Dipper said. "I just came to ask you about one thing, and then I'll leave."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him, but he looked curious. "...What is it?" He asked.

Dipper narrowed his eyes at Jimmy. "The symbol you put on Stan's back. Do you know what it means?"

Jimmy glared at Dipper suspiciously. "It's a sigil of protection."

"Did you choose it because it looked cool, or specifically because of what it meant?" Dipper needed to know.

"Because of what it meant." Jimmy said slowly. "Why are you asking? Does the sigil make you...uncomfortable?"

Yes, it did, but not for the reasons that Jimmy might think. It made Dipper uncomfortable because it had been _Jimmy_ who had thought to use it. It made him uncomfortable, because it had been the last thing he had expected the man to do. Especially with his suspicions about him.

Dipper chose not to answer Jimmy's question, and instead asked another of his own. "There are lots of sigils out there that symbolize protection. Why did you choose _that_ one specifically." Some artifacts and symbols provided protection in general, while others were focused on just one thing in particular. If had just put a symbol of protection on Stan's back just in case, then that was one thing. If he had _meant_ to use this specific sigil, then he knew what it was for, and that was a whole other matter.

"You know why." Jimmy said seriously. "You've been messing around with things that should have been left alone. I was just making sure that Stan didn't suffer because of it."

"How do you know about-" Dipper paled.

"I have my sources." Jimmy said coldly, and he didn't expand on that. Not that Dipper had expected him to. "I've met loads of men like you, Pines. Guys who think they can handle things that less learned men would be smart enough to leave alone. They all get what's coming to them in the end, but it's not fair to drag other people into your problems."

Dipper felt his face go red, though he wasn't sure if it was because of anger, embarrassment, or shame. "I'm not dragging them into this." Dipper said. "Whatever mistakes I made, they're in the past. The kids don't even know about...this."

"You think that'll keep those kids safe from you friend?" Jimmy asked, which made Dipper feel sick to his stomach. Did Jimmy know something that he didn't? "Just because they don't know about your friend doesn't mean that _he_ doesn't know about _them."_

Dipper felt his heart race. Every word that was coming out of Jimmy's mouth was a doubt that Dipper himself had considered multiple times. He had done what he could to protect his family, but he couldn't deny that it may not be enough.

The sigil...it was one that Dipper was _very_ familiar with. It was a little known symbol, and Dipper considered it nothing short of a miracle that he had even stumbled upon it. Just like Jimmy said, it was a symbol that provided protection, but only from one very specific thing. Something that was _very_ dangerous.

A dream demon.

There were very few things that could stop a dream demon. Dipper would know, as he had spent years trying to find different methods to do just that. Some of the methods were dangerous, or unpredictable, or very difficult to pull off correctly. What Dipper had come to find though was that this particular sigil was one of the best ways to dissuade a dream demon...to weaken Bill Cipher.

Dipper didn't know how much Jimmy knew about Bill, or how he had come upon his information, but at that moment he didn't think that it really mattered. What mattered was that Jimmy had been mistrusting about Dipper for the exact same reason that Dipper had been mistrusting of him. They had both just been worried that the other's involvement with demon's would put the children in danger.

Dipper didn't necessarily have proof that jimmy was involved with a demon, but he was more convinced now than he had been before that it was the truth. Most people didn't even believe that demons were real, and many had probably never even _heard_ of a dream demon before. Not only did Jimmy know that dream demons were real though, he had somehow known about Dipper's involvement with one, and he knew how to protect Stan from making a similar mistake.

Dipper didn't believe that Jimmy would be able to know these things on his own. He had to have some kind of help. Dipper was determined to find out just what that help was, but in the meantime, it would be a bit of a relief to have somebody around who actually seemed to know what they were doing.

"Alright, Jimmy, here's the...plan." Dipper had been about to say the word ' _deal'_ , but he had stopped himself before he did. Dipper had just had too many bad experiences with deals gone wrong. "Stan told me that you were working for work in Gravity Falls. Is this true?"

"Yeah." Jimmy looked at him suspiciously. "What's this gotta do with anything?"

"I may have a job offer for you." Dipper said, while on the inside he was wondering what the heck he was saying. His words were just coming out. "I keep magical artifacts and creatures at the shack. Would you know how to keep these exhibits _and_ my customers safe?" Dipper would never admit it to his sister, but he knew that he had a problem with how he presented his findings. Every other day something was blowing up, and though Dipper knew how to keep his things contained, and he knew how to keep paying customers amused and happy, he wasn't entirely sure on how to do both at the same time.

Jimmy was young, and Dipper still didn't like him, but he seemed to know about this kind of thing.

Jimmy gave Dipper an odd look. "You want me to work for you?"

"Look, I know you don't like or trust me, and you know that I don't like or trust you." Dipper said. "What better opportunity would either of us get to keep the other from doing something foolish than by working right by each other?"

Jimmy considered his offer. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right, Pines?"

"Right." Dipper nodded. That was exactly what his intention was, and he had a feeling that Jimmy would go for it. He hoped he would. Dipper wanted to see for himself just what kind of a person Jimmy Snakes was. And he knew that Stan would be glad to have his friend back. "Of course, we'll have to play nice with each other in front of Stan."

"Of course." Jimmy nodded. Neither of them wanted to make Stan feel like he had to choose between his friend and his family again. They both just wanted him to be safe and happy, which meant that, as much as they mistrusted each other, they would have to work together on at least this much. Because there were things that Dipper could do to keep Stan safe, and things that Jimmy could do.

And, as Dipper had noticed in this past week, Stan was only truly happy when he could have _both_ his friends and his family.

Dipper still just wished that Stan would make a friend who wasn't so...Jimmy Snakes.

* * *

Stan sighed and kicked his legs. He was sitting on the chair in the living room, blindly staring at the television without truly paying attention to what was on. He was only watching it because he wanted something that he could thoughtlessly do to get rid of the multitude of swirling emotions inside of his head.

Stan really hated it when Grauntie Mabel had an 'intervention' for him and Ford. Stan didn't like talking about his emotions, especially not with his brother, who seemed to see feelings as an alien concept. However, whenever he was pushed into a situation where he had little choice _but_ to talk about how he felt, he spilled his guts. He hated how it always happened, but he couldn't help it. It was as though he just couldn't keep his emotions in any more.

And he really hated how vulnerable he felt when he couldn't seem to keep up his defenses. He had them for a reason, after all. To keep himself from being hurt, and to keep others from knowing that he had already gotten hurt, because he knew that it would just hurt _them._

And whenever his barriers fell, other people _did_ end up getting hurt. _Always._ Even if they didn't think that they did, Stan could tell.

The one person who seemed to suffer most from these interventions things was Ford. Stan knew that his brother hated it when people were mad. He also had a strong desire to please people, because, as Ford saw it, if other people thought he was doing good, than he had to be doing something right. Ford probably didn't even know that he tried so hard to impress others, but Stan recognized it because he had the same desire himself.

What really sucked about these intervention things was that for a couple of days after them Ford would act differently around Stan, because he wanted to 'fix' things. Stan hated it when he did this, because Ford should not be thinking that any of this was his fault. These interventions only happened because Stanley was overreacting, or he had done something stupid to upset Ford. It was always _Stan's_ fault, but _Ford_ was always the one who felt responsible for it in the end.

It just wasn't fair.

Stan sighed internally. He would sigh for real, except Ford was sitting right next to him, and he would know that something was wrong if Stan sighed then. Ford already felt bad enough about upsetting Stan, (why else would he willingly watch Ducktective?) and Stan really didn't want to make it worse.

Besides, he was fine...just fine.

He just didn't know how to convince everybody else of that. Most of the time he did a great job at conning everybody else into believing whatever he wanted them to believe, but it was just so hard to do when his emotions built up like they had.

He just had to get better at this. He had let himself get weak since coming to Gravity Falls. He just needed to man up and get his act under control. If he could do it at home, he could do it here.

Stan is pulled away from his thoughts and pretend television watching when he heard the front door slam. The sound made him flinch, like it always did. It had taken him awhile to get used to the ever slamming doors in the shack, because everybody there was too excited and energetic to bother closing the door quietly. He had long since stopped panicking whenever he heard the door slam, but he didn't think he would ever be able to stop the general feeling of uneasiness. Because one of the top ten house rules back in New Jersey was ' _don't slam doors'._

Stan and Ford both turned towards the hall when they heard two heavy sets of footsteps coming their way. Stan recognized Dipper's footsteps, but he had no idea who else was with him. Stan turned towards Ford to ask him if he had any idea of who was there. After all, between the two of them, Ford would definitely be the one to know if Dipper had any plans on bringing anybody over.

Ford's expression didn't reveal much though. He looked guilty about something, though that may just be the lingering feelings from their little chat, and he also looked extremely nervous, though also a little eager. What was going on? Had Grunkle Dipper brought a monster to the shack again?

"Hey, Kitten." Stan froze. He didn't think he had ever been so happy to be called ' _Kitten'._ Stan turned to see his favorite biker buddy, Jimmy Snakes. Man, had Stan missed him.

"What're you doing here, you massive jerk?" Stan scowled and glared at Jimmy. He may have missed him, but that didn't mean that he had forgiven him either. As out of line as Ford may have been in his little investigation (and, no, Stan hadn't entirely forgiven Ford for that either), that didn't give Jimmy any right to shove his brother and call him a freak.

Jimmy chuckled and let himself into the room. He ruffled Stan's hair, which the boy absolutely hated, but also kinda liked. " _There's_ that spark I've been missing. You've got quite a bite on you, don't you, Kitten?"

Stan pouted, though also felt secretly pleased that Jimmy found his inner anger and constant desire to fight someone to be cute. Not that Stan _wanted_ to be seen as cute, ever, but he liked how Jimmy respected his inner fire. Most people just scolded him for it.

Unfortunately, Jimmy's amusement at his anger made it hard for Stan to stay mad at him. He hadn't forgiven him, but he wasn't all that mad at him.

"...You'd better not leave like that again." Stan muttered.

"Hey, _you_ told me to leave." Jimmy said.

"And that was your mistake." Ford cut in. "You should never listen to Stan when he says stuff like that."

Stan sent Ford an annoyed glare. He didn't need his brothers comments with this.

"Don't get too exciting." Grunkle Dipper said. Stan had nearly forgotten that he was there. "We've got work to do."

"Work?" Stan looked from Dipper to Jimmy. "What work?"

Jimmy smirked. "You're looking at the shack's newest employee."

Ford's eyes widened. He looked at Dipper with disbelief. "You _hired_ him?"

Grunkle Dipper looked embarrassed. "...He knows about magical elements." Stan snorted a laugh.

"Bet _that's_ killing you to admit." Stan knew that it was too much to expect his great uncle to just forget about associating Jimmy with some creepy mumbo-jumbo junk, but at least he was starting to realize that there might be something good about it. Stan wasn't sure what had gone on between Jimmy and Grunkle Dipper, but he didn't really care at all. He just hoped that this meant that there wouldn't be much more fighting between his friend and his family. Stan had learned that it would probably be best to keep Jimmy away from Dipper and Ford, but he would still rather not worry about them all arguing again.

"Come on, Snakes, let's go." Grunkle Dipper said impatiently, as though he _hadn't_ hired Jimmy on a complete whim.

Jimmy winked at Stan. "See you around, Kitten." He ruffled Stan's hair one more time before he went to join Dipper in his area of the shack.

Stan and Ford shared a look. "Am I the only one wondering what went on between those two?" Ford asked.

"Hey, I'm not going to question it." Stan shrugged. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was going to appreciate what he could get.

And he was sure that Grauntie Mabel would appreciate that Grunkle Dipper had finally hired somebody. Maybe there would be less explosives and creature attacks at the shack with another pair of hands around to keep things under control.

...Maybe.

* * *

 **A/N: I hate ending stories. I never know how to go about doing it. The good news is that while this is the end of the fanfic, the story isn't actually over. This is just the first of** _ **many**_ **story ideas I have in mind for this Relativity Falls au. Most of them will probably be just longer oneshots, but one or two others will have multiple chapters like this one.**

 **Now, I'm undecided on what to do for the next oneshot. The first idea involves Bill trying to harass the boys a bit, and the other one is Summerween focused. If you have a preference of which one you would rather read first, leave a review.**


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